Rediscovery
by moon71
Summary: All change! After his wedding, Alexander increasingly struggles to come to terms with unpleasant events during Bactrian campaigns. Meanwhile, an unexpected slight causes Hephaestion to reassess himself and his relationship with Alexander. COMPLETE!
1. Story Notes!

**REDISOVERY by Moon71**

**SUMMARY: **All change! After his wedding, Alexander increasingly struggles to come to terms with unpleasant events during Bactrian campaigns. Meanwhile, an unexpected slight causes Hephaestion to reassess himself and his relationship with Alexander.

**STORY NOTE: **Events in this story take place directly after my earlier story, _A time for lovers. _Though it isn't a direct sequel, and doesn't centre around Bagoas, readers might feel like referring to it for some of the sub-plots.

**HISTORICAL NOTE: **I have tried to be as accurate as I can about historical events. If I've stuffed up, it's my fault alone.

**RATING: **T for love scenes (tasteful of course), mild violence, scary bits and images of violent death (in Alexander's nightmares)

**DISCAIMER: **If anything like this ever happened, I'd be surprised. Not mine.

**DEDIDCATION – **This story owes its existence to my dear friend **Fredericka,** who thought up the idea, suggested the setting, put forward lots of useful ideas, read through the many drafts, listened to me complain and generally worked to the prize loose crushing grip I – no, I mean, _Alexander _had on Hephaestion's gonads, to let him have a bit of fun. The story started life as a bit of a laugh, but became increasingly more complex and serious when I looked into the times immediately surrounding Alexander's wedding and realised he had had quite a run of bad luck around that time. As such, it was a very difficult story to write! _Thank you my jaan, I could not have done it without you!_

**Grateful thanks **are also owed to all of you who have unwittingly contributed to this story, either by answering my direct questions or just by your fics, reviews and lj discussions. In particular, **Coral Dawn, Joyeee, Parisad, Barbara, Euripides, Selket, Norskken, Trust No One, Tionsbabe, Qaddafi, Balliansword and Purple Lolly. **And to **Marina – **no Amyntor, but a little Hylas.

**REFRENCES!**

Yes, I know it's a bit odd to include a notes page in a fic, but this is such a long one and draws on a number of sources, so I thought it would be simpler to have them all together rather than explaining chapter by chapter!

**_PEOPLES, PLACES AND OBJECTS:_**

**ORONTES, MITHRANES AND THE ARMENIOI **-While the Armenioi delegation are obviously my own creation, the story of Orontes and Mithranes is sadly true. The Armenioi, probably known to themselves as the Uratians, now known as the Armenians, apparently had Darius as their Satrap before Grand Vizier Bagoas made him Great King; they were famous for their horse breeding and sent a large cavalry to the aid of Darius (not that it did him much good!) Their principal deity was Vahagn, a god of war and fire born from a volcano. The Romans later associated his cult with Vulcan (the Greek Hephaestus), but he would probably liken himself more to Mars / Ares!

**ANAHID / ANAHITA **was another very popular deity in Armenia, a goddess originally of water, later associated by Alexander with Artemis. "Anahid" remains an extremely popular girl's name amongst Armenians – I am dubious about the variation "Anahita"; to me it sounds like a Roman variant rather than a Greek or Armenian one – a bit like Roshanak becoming "Roxana"! However, I have used both spellings of both names to emphasise the cultural and linguistic differences between Macedonians and Persians.

**OBSIDIAN** – Black volcanic glass, which can be turned into beautiful jewellery. It can be found scattered all over the hillsides in Armenia, and it would make sense for the ancients to have made use of it as we do. The qualities Hephaestion ascribes to it are not specifically Persian – but they sound strangely appropriate!

**SHERBET – **also known as _shabat, _is traditionally a drink made with fruit juice and spring water or snow. (I am a big fan of lime sherbet myself…) The drink / dessert is mentioned as Persian, but the name is more likely Arabic. Milk puddings made with almonds or rice or just lots of condensed milk are popular in the East; again I am only guessing that they were enjoyed by the ancient Persians too!

_**SOURCES**_

For some reason, **Quintus Curtius Rufus** and his history of Alexander always seems to come to my aid. I always find him the most useful source for anecdotes of Hephaestion in particular. To him I owe the details of Erigyius' golden moment and the name of the "lucky" fellow who succeeded Cleitos to the post of Satrap of Bactria. He is also the source for Hephaestion's founding of cities in the area – though whether the number is as high as he says, and whether they were really cities or just fortified towns, I couldn't say!

_**LITERARY REFERENCES **_

In the effort to give my characters something intelligent to talk about I began reading Greek tragedy! Now I am addicted! If any of you were like me, feeling you won't understand it or won't enjoy it, give it a go!

**HELEN **- The traditional story of Helen of Troy is that she went to Troy with Paris and was brought home by her husband Menelaus. This is reflected in _The Odyssey _of Homer and in Euripides _The Trojan Women _(where she is the villainess of the piece!) However, Euripides later told an alternative story, of a "phantom Helen" going to Troy while the real one was stranded in Egypt, in his play _Helen. _

**LYSISTRATA – **The play performed at the festival is by comic writer Aristophanes; in the story, the women of Athens and Sparta, weary of their men constantly making war, impose a sex ban until they agree to make peace. It's genuinely funny as well as a relevant comment on war (though I don't know what Alexander would have made of the anti-war message!)

_THE OCs!_

Partly because this story is so long, it has quite a big cast list, many of whom have appeared before. For those of you who for some strange reason seem to think you have better things to do than memorise every story I've written, these are the main appearances of the buggers I've invented for my own perverse gratification:

**ARA – **_A Time For Lovers_

**HYLAS ** - _The Ivory Eros, The Substitute_

**IASON – **_The Other Half, Competing for Second Place_

**ADMETUS ** - _The Ivory Eros, Competing for Second Place, The Substitute_

**HELENUS, NARCISSUS, NIREUS **_– Competing for Second Place_

**HYACINTHUS **– _The Other Half_

**_AND FINALLY_** For anyone who has got this far – thank you for your patience!


	2. Chapter 1

**REDISCOVERY by Moon71**

**CHAPTER 1: **Very soon after his marriage, Alexander receives an unwelcome gift which affects not only him but some of his closest friends and allies.

* * *

Another letter from his father. Hephaestion regarded it thoughtfully for a moment before breaking the seal and skimming over the contents. Parts of it were in the cipher Amyntor had once used to send dispatches to King Philip and had taught Hephaestion before he had left Macedon; the more Alexander's empire grew and the more Hephaestion's role grew within it, the more he had come to rely on his father's advice. The encoded passages would no doubt be invaluable, but for now he was too tired and distracted to translate them so he skipped over to the parts that were easier to read.

The arrangements for his youngest sister's wedding were nearly complete. His cousin Nicaea had just been betrothed to… some person called Amyntas; thank all the gods for that – if her mother was anything to go by she had the potential to become a real shrew. Oh dear. His cousin Cleopatra was now of marriageable age… a description her charms followed, with the additional note that she might be willing to make the journey out to Persia if Hephaestion was agreeable. Hephaestion closed his aching eyes and heaved a deep sigh. He could remember the girl quite clearly. She had been very pretty and was always laughing; before he had fallen under Alexander's spell he had thought a great deal of her. Yes, she might just be capable of surviving camp life…

Marriage. The thought just would not leave him alone.

He forced his mind to other, more pressing matters. There were still arrangements to be made, plans to finalise, for Eudaemon's celebration. Technically the figurehead of the planned festival day was Amyntas, son of Nicholaus, the man who had been given the post of Satrap of Bactria and Sogdiana when Cleitos had not lived to take it. But it was obvious that the real driving spirit behind the idea was Eudaemon.

Eudaemon, son of Peithon, had been an officer in the Cavalry badly wounded in the thigh during the Sogdian campaigns. Even mounting a horse was agony to him now, he had reluctantly admitted to Hephaestion; riding one for any distance would be like spending time in Tartarus. When faced with the choice of staying behind in Bactria to be the governor of one of the six fortified towns Hephaestion had founded, struggling on with the army or making the long – and for him painful – journey home on horseback or on foot, he had understandably chosen the first option. Unlike many who had been rather reluctantly settled in one of the many Alexandrias which marked the progress of Alexander's army, Eudaemon had apparently decided to make the best of his new role, a big promotion after all; he had taken a Sogdian wife, begun to learn something of the local dialects and customs and tried to encourage trade.

Hephaestion had received him with pleasure when he had arrived with his proposal; it was good to see him thriving and at least one of Hephaestion's towns with him. And the idea he proposed was a good one – a festival celebrating Alexander's marriage and the founding of the towns together. There would be a huge bazaar, encouraging all the local and itinerant merchants to flock there; sporting games and competitions in music and dance in the afternoon would be followed by the staging of some Greek comedies and a banquet in Alexander's honour.

Hephaestion was immediately taken with the plan. After all, it would serve as a celebration of his own achievements and those of his staff as well as an acknowledgement of how far Alexander and his army had come and how far they could go yet. Handled well, it would also serve to encourage and unify men like Eudaemon left behind to garrison the towns, to give them some pride in what had been placed in their charge and some happy memories for them to share. It might raise the army's spirits, which certainly needed raising after such a long and difficult campaign in Bactria. And it might – just _might _– soften the blow when it became clear that Alexander had every intention of pushing eastwards into India instead of turning back.

But what Hephaestion most wanted to happen was for Alexander to be the star of the day, to illuminate the festival like a shining sun, to once more be the young golden god his men adored.

"It's a fine plan, Eudaemon," he had said when he had heard it all, "no – it's a brilliant plan. I'll tell Alexander of it as soon as I can but I'm sure he'll feel the same way. I'll assign my own page Admetus to you to liaise between us; meanwhile, my staff are at your service – anything you need, just ask."

Eudaemon had grinned happily at him, reaching over to grip his hands. "Thank you, Hephaestion!"

"No," Hephaestion had replied with genuine warmth, "thank _you, _Eudaemon."

_Yes, _he thought now, leaning back in his chair, _thank you, Eudaemon – for giving my poor heated brain something else to think about besides marriage! Marriage – and Alexander…_

He opened his eyes as the doors of his office were thrown open. Only one man would be allowed to enter without some warning, at least from Hephaestion's guards. A warmth like the touch of sunlight spread through his body as it always did when Alexander sought him out. Pages and servants scattered without waiting for Hephaestion's command; they were too well trained for that.

Alexander's smile was gentle as Hephaestion rose to greet him. "You look tired," he observed.

Hephaestion sank back into his seat. "So do you. Why is administrating so much more exhausting than marching or fighting?"

"We'll be on the move soon." Alexander made his way to Hephaestion's side of the desk and leaned over him. "For now, all I want is a moment alone with my most handsome warrior…"

"Only a moment…? Is that all you have left for me…?" Hephaestion grinned, slipping his arms around Alexander's waist. "Have you been completely exhausted by your fiery young bride?"

Alexander sighed, sliding into Hephaestion's lap. "Perhaps you're right… perhaps I should just lie back right here and let you do all the work…"

"Alexander!" Hephaestion cried with mock indignation working his way into the folds of Alexander's garments, "control yourself! What would dear General Crateros think if he could hear you say such things… or see you like this… sitting on my knee with my hand in your robes…?"

Alexander's eyes glittered. "Sheath your claws, Hephaestion. There's only room for one Macedonian lion in this Empire!"

"A lion are you…? Hmm…" Hephaestion's hand slid up Alexander's thigh. "It's been a long time since I've been hunting…"

Alexander leaned close, brushing his lips over Hephaestion's upturned face. "That's because you're so… utterly… completely… totally… _useless_ at it…"

Hephaestion gave a low chuckle. "I caught you didn't I…?"

"_Only because I threw myself in your path…"_

His weariness forgotten, Hephaestion pushed Alexander up and back onto the desk. "If you're not careful," he breathed, leaning over him, "I'll have my way with you right here, right now… on this very desk…"

"Shame on you, Hephaestion," Alexander laughed, nodding to the letter from Hephaestion's father. "On top of _this…?"_

Hephaestion cut off his laughter with a kiss. They clung to each other, drawing apart only to catch their breath. _"By Aphrodite, Alexander…" _Hephaestion panted.

"I need you, Hephaestion… I want… _Hades!"_

They sprang apart at the sound of a hard knocking on the door, quickly straightening their clothing. Hephaestion could not suppress a wry smile at the pink flush on Alexander's cheeks, but he quickly hid it as he called his visitor in. Hephaestion's page Nireus entered, closely followed by Alexander's secretary Eumenes. "Forgive me, Alexander," Eumenes said, not bothering to acknowledge Hephaestion, "but a delegation from the Armenioi has just arrived… they request an audience…"

Hephaestion was surprised to see poorly concealed displeasure on Alexander's face; normally he seemed to enjoy the visits of dignitaries from all corners of the former Persian Empire, revelling in acts of generosity and lavish hospitality. "Very well," he said stiffly, "I will see them as soon as I have had time to prepare. Hephaestion…" Alexander turned and looked at his friend, and for a moment Hephaestion saw something like sadness in Alexander's grey eyes. "Hephaestion, go with Eumenes, I will see you there."

* * *

The emissary and his aides prostrated themselves as Alexander entered. As Alexander took his seat, the emissary began to talk. His name was Artaxias, the translator told them, sent by Mithranes, son of Orontes, who if Alexander recalled supported Alexander over Orontes when Alexander had fought Darius.

Hephaestion listened quietly to the usual tributes and avowals of loyalty, every now and then stealing glances about the room at the Persians and the Bactrians. Something was not quite right; he would need to find out what that was. Then Artaxias apparently declared that they had brought the finest gift they could. He clapped his hands and the door swung open. A moment later, a veiled woman entered the room, dressed in colourful silks, gracefully prostrating herself before Alexander before rising, fluid as water, to bow to each of the men present. "Her name is Anahid, most beautiful of King Mithranes' concubines," Artaxias was apparently saying, smiling benevolently upon the girl, "trained, of course, in the arts of singing, dancing, poetry and music and, of course, in the arts of pleasure."

Hephaestion could not help glancing at Alexander, who he would have sworn had turned a little pale, though he quickly rallied, rising from his seat to greet the young woman called Anahid and at Artaxias' prompting lifting her veil.

Hephaestion stared. She was lovely, he had to admit it. Obviously in the first flowering of womanhood, a girlish plumpness softened the firm contours of her face. Her skin was so smooth it was hard to resist reaching to touch it, her complexion a rich golden-olive. Modestly lowering her large black doe's eyes she gave a charming little smile and touched her veil as if she was both pleased by the King's attention and eager to conceal her face once again. Every move she made, even down to the way she turned her head or lifted her hands spoke of both innocence and knowledge at once. Women! How little he really knew of them and their ways! Perhaps he could postpone marriage – Alexander did keep hinting he had someone in mind for Hephaestion and he didn't feel like forcing the issue, but having a woman - a mistress… well, wasn't it long overdue?

Hephaestion only realised he had lost track of what was being said when music filled the room and Anahid began to sing. He couldn't understand the words or recognise the language; it must be of her own land. Her voice was hypnotic; it soothed his aching head and made him feel soft and peaceful and filled him with thoughts of love. He could not help turning to Alexander with a warm smile. But Alexander did not smile back.

* * *

"There's bad blood between Mithranes and Oxyartes," Hephaestion told Alexander as he took a sip of watery wine, "apparently it goes back to Mithranes siding with us against his father. I understand Oxyartes was close to Orontes."

"I imagined something along those lines," Alexander sighed, "it's hardly discreet of them to make a gift of a beautiful courtesan weeks after I've married Oxyartes' daughter…" He pressed a hand to his temple and rubbed slowly. It had been a very long night and not a very enjoyable one either; the atmosphere at the reception Alexander had thrown for the visiting emissaries, attended naturally enough by Oxyartes and his kin, had been strained and keeping up the conversation had been incredibly hard work. Alexander had worked hard to placate both sides, praising Anahid's charms and then making a great show of sending a eunuch to Roxana's rooms to tell her to expect his visit. He had politely declined Oxyartes' offer to escort him there at the end of the evening and had waited, none to subtly for him, for his guests to leave.

Alexander looked tired and worried and Hephaestion had a growing sense he was deeply troubled, but instead of taking the time to share his problems with Hephaestion or even just to take the rest he obviously needed, in the last few weeks he had insisted on filling up his days with more and more strategy meetings, diplomatic audiences and inspections and his nights with formal dinners or more traditionally Macedonian drinking parties. Their times alone together were few and far between – this had been a necessary reality of the difficult and dangerous Bactrian campaign and Hephaestion had expected it to continue after the wedding and taken it in his stride, but when Alexander did come to him now there was a desperation in him that was nothing to do with his usual frenetic nature – all he seemed to want was to make love until they were too tired to do anything but sleep. And even when circumstances permitted it, he no longer asked Hephaestion to stay the night. Before Bactria, Alexander had seemed to consider it the greatest treat to spend an entire night with Hephaestion, confessing his worries and fears from the safety of his arms while the shadows shielded him from Hephaestion's penetrating gaze. Now he almost seemed to be avoiding him… That in itself told Hephaestion that all was not as it should be.

As soon as they were alone, Hephaestion rose from his own couch and crossed to Alexander's, drawing his lover's head back against his own chest and gently massaging his brow. "What will you do?" Hephaestion asked gently as he felt Alexander relax against him, "with the girl – Anahid."

"I'm not sure yet," Alexander murmured. "Keep doing that… it feels wonderful… the gods know I don't need yet another spy in the camp, and I need Oxyartes… for now at least… and the gods know I've got little use for another woman right now…"

Hephaestion frowned thoughtfully. "Alexander, I have an idea that might work – once the Armenioi are safely on their way home."

"Tell me, my friend…"

Hephaestion slowly stroked Alexander's hair. "Make a gift of her. To one of your most trusted Companions. Why not, after all? You're well known for being abstemious, and for giving generous gifts! It will impress the Persians and show your men you haven't gone too… satyric, shall we say, amidst so much Persian opulence? Such a gesture right now would probably be well timed…" Hephaestion didn't want to labour the point; but with the killing of Cleitus and the execution of Callisthenes' supporters still prominent in so many minds, followed by a marriage not all Macedonians necessarily approved of and the dubious delight of more forays into unknown territory to follow, morale was not high.

Alexander shifted slightly. "Any particular candidate in mind for this great honour?"

Hephaestion hesitated. "That's your choice, Alexander."

"I'll give it some thought."

"Actually, Alexander, Alexander… I've been thinking…"

"Hmmm…? You're always thinking, my love. What is it this time?"

"Women," Hephaestion answered carefully. His conscience, and his innate understanding of his lover, told him this was not the time – but his logic scolded that if he followed that reasoning, the time would never come. "I… think it's about time _I_ took a mistress. For form's sake, if nothing else." He did not think he imagined the sudden tension in Alexander's body, but he pressed on. "You know it doesn't change anything between you and me, Alexander, any more than your marriage has. You're my only love. But it would make things easier in a lot of ways… for both of us."

Alexander was silent for a long time. Finally he pulled himself up. "You're right, of course," he said wearily, "I'll find someone for you."

Seeing the strained look on Alexander's face, Hephaestion decided to leave it there, with the thought planted in Alexander's mind. Alexander could be unresponsive to new ideas at first, especially when it came to his private life – or Hephaestion's - but Hephaestion had learned long ago that just because he didn't immediately give an opinion, it did not mean the advice was ignored. All that needed to be said had been said, in the gentlest way possible. Alexander would understand. "You'd better be going to Roxana before you fall asleep right here," Hephaestion observed, absently straightening Alexander's Persian robes and smoothing down his hair. Studying him more closely, he added, against his better judgement, "Alexander, you look exhausted. You must take some time for yourself! A few days hunting – you said yourself how good the hunting was around here… take a few trusted friends, and…"

That seemed to agitate Alexander even more than Hephaestion's heavy hinting about women. He gave a negative grunt, irritably brushing off Hephaestion's ministrations, and headed towards the door without a backward glance, apparently quite ready to leave without even a parting salutation.

"Health to you, my heart," Hephaestion called gently just as Alexander was about to disappear.

Alexander turned then, blinking bloodshot eyes. With a smile of genuine love, he stepped out of the room.

It was only much later, as Hephaestion was curled up gratefully in his own bed, that the exact meaning of Alexander's words first struck him.

* * *

"Son of Amyntor, may I trouble you for just a moment?"

Hephaestion halted on his way down the long corridor, his eyebrows raising as he turned to look at Thais, the hetaera who usually travelled with Ptolemy. She approached with that flowing grace so innate in women of her elite profession, recalling vague memories of the beautiful women who had fluttered through the banquets and drinking parties back in Pella. As a youth he had stared at them with distant fascination as one might the exotic birds sold in cages at a market. Later, so absorbed had he become in Alexander – his presence, his vibrant beauty, his wild plans, wilder dreams and seemingly endless need for Hephaestion's love and care – he had stopped noticing such feminine delights. He waited politely for her to speak.

"I need your help, son of Amyntor," Thais told him in her cultured Athenian Greek, her eyes modestly lowered, "in a matter of some delicacy…"

Hephaestion was alert at once. Sometimes women, servants and other camp-followers heard things that soldiers did not. "Does this concern the King?" he asked in a low voice.

At that moment Thais raised her eyes to his. They were large and very, very dark, framed in long black lashes. Surely she must know only too well the effect they had, yet it was no less mesmerising for being contrived. "The matter… concerns only me, son of Amyntor. It is a private problem."

Hephaestion was about to offer to help in any way he could, when he realised what was happening and rapidly shook himself. He was a commander in Alexander's army, not a house steward; a woman's private problems weren't his concern, even if she did have lovely eyes. He had awoken in a bad mood that morning, after going to bed in a bad mood the night before, having, in fact, been in a bad mood for most of the day before that. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, attempting to move out of the way, "I really don't see how I can help."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Hephaestion," Thais said, her black silken gown rustling as she stepped in front of him, "for we women of the army tend to think of you as a sort of… guardian, if you will… after all, we have been under your care in the past…"

_Wonderful,_ Hephaestion thought sourly, _now I'm the leader of the Camp Followers!_

"I'm a merely a soldier, madam," he replied coldly.

"Ah…" Thais favoured him with a disarming smile, "but you're so much more than a soldier… to us… and so much more than a Companion to the king…" As she spoke, her fingers brushed very lightly against his arm, as if by mistake, as she raised a hand to pat her already immaculately dressed hair into place. In spite of himself, Hephaestion found a smile tugging at his lips.

"I'm afraid I'm quite ignorant of the dealings of women," he said in a gentler tone.

"Much to our frustration," Thais nodded, her silver earrings clinking delicately.

"I… don't understand…"

"There are many women in the camp, Hephaestion, son of Amyntor, who would very much like to involve you in their… dealings…"

Finally, Hephaestion found something in this conversation to interest him. No, he had never paid much attention to the women who followed the army, be they wives, hetaerae, common prostitutes or skilled workers. But that had been before Alexander's marriage to Roxana, before he had decided it was time he considered bringing a woman into his own life.

_I'll find someone for you._ Alexander's words had been haunting him for three days now. And he had hardly seen him since they had been uttered. The complacency with which Alexander had spoken had irked him enough, once he had had time to think about it, but what had really upset his equilibrium was the fact that when Alexander had said what he had said, it had not struck Hephaestion himself as out of the ordinary.

Perhaps he was worrying over nothing. Alexander had been tired and a little drunk the night Hephaestion had raised the subject of taking a woman, and he knew only too well how protective his lover could be of him. But something still bothered him…

"Tell me what troubles you," he said at last.

Suddenly a shadow passed over Thais' exquisite face and for a moment all the carefully affected poise seemed to desert her. "I've decided to… leave the protection of Ptolemy, son of Lagus," she answered quietly.

"Ptolemy is letting you go?" Hephaestion made an experiment in gallantry. "I never thought him such a fool."

He was rewarded with a small smile. "You're too kind… Hephaestion. But it was a mutual decision… he has a new woman in his life… courtesy of King Alexander."

Hephaestion frowned. "Alexander? I don't understand."

"The concubine gifted to him… Anahita, isn't that her name?"

_"Anahid - ?"_ Hephaestion could not help the sharp note in his voice, "Alexander gave Anahid to Ptolemy…?"

"Alexander is known for his great generosity," Thais remarked, her expression unreadable. "Under the circumstances… I'd be very grateful if you'd help me to arrange rooms for myself until the army decamps. I know I'm but a woman, son of Amyntor, but… even women have their pride, their… need for status… amongst one another at least…"

"I understand," Hephaestion replied dully, "I'll see that it's done." He walked away without waiting for her to thank him.

TBC


	3. Chapter 2

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 2: **Hephaestion and Thais have dinner together and embark on their first debate…

**NOTE: **I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so quickly and with such supportive words. This story is something of a departure for me, so I am a little nervous! I hope you will all like where it goes. A couple of the characters are being rather stupid in Chapter 1, but I hope all will be clear in the next few installments! To Angstman – let me thank you here because I couldn't reply direct!

* * *

Perfect. Just as it should be. Subtle but with a generous sprinkling of the exotic; the accent on pleasure and relaxation, nothing outwardly sensual. She did not need the room or the entertainment to seduce him; she could handle that herself. There was something stimulating in having to consider the needs and desires of a new man – a younger man, who seemed to have embraced and absorbed Persia and the mysteries of the East with a genuinely open heart. A younger man who very possibly had very little experience of women – women of pleasure, that was.

Casting a last glance over her discreetly waiting maids, her carefully selected performers, the food, the wine, even the choice of Macedonian fur throws upon the couches contrasting with beautifully woven Persian carpets and tastefully positioned, superbly illustrated Greek pottery, Thais declared herself satisfied and assumed a nonchalant position to await her guest.

What, she wondered, had brought about this sudden change in Hephaestion? For so long he had been the despair of the camp-followers, even the most highly accomplished hetaerae. Not even the Pages and other attractive youths the army boasted seemed to be able to claim any success with him, handsome, healthy and apparently virile though he was. Personally Thais doubted Hephaestion could be completely chaste; knowing men as she knew them, even the most self righteously pure ones, she couldn't imagine any of them utterly denying themselves such pleasures offered by this huge nomadic nation-in-miniature that Alexander's army had become. And certainly not a man with as much power as Hephaestion possessed. But he must have learned to be subtle about his trysts, maybe even around Alexander…

Thais sighed. She was thirsty, but it wouldn't do to be caught gulping wine when Hephaestion finally appeared. Motioning one of the maids to begin fanning her, she allowed herself to contemplate what had happened in the last few days, and what might happen as a result. Ptolemy she refused to consider. She could not ruin her mood with such thoughts. She had to be practical, always practical. Hephaestion, then. Hephaestion and Alexander. She could be running a serious risk. Alexander had always seemed to like her – if his appetite for women wasn't exactly insatiable, he certainly seemed to enjoy their society. But what if she made a play for the man he loved? He might turn on her. But that in itself made it exciting. And she needed excitement – she needed to be awakened. She had grown stupid, relying on…

She pushed that out of her head. What, she wondered, had finally prompted Hephaestion to seek her out? A long standing desire, suppressed only out of affection for Ptolemy? She dismissed that. Men weren't really as honourable about such things as they would have others believe – if he had wanted her, he would have tried for her, friendship be damned. Alexander's marriage then? Surely not. The arrival of Barsine, gentle and discreet though she was, had not produced that result. Maybe he was just realising it was about time. Whatever lay behind it, his visit that morning, ostensibly to check how she liked her new rooms, had led to a charmingly awkward suggestion that he might like to spend more time in her company_. Well of course, son of Amyntor, you know how grateful I am for your kindness and discretion, it would give me the greatest pleasure to… entertain you._ He had even blushed!

Yes, this would be a challenge. But she needed a challenge. What she needed most of all, she acknowledged uncomfortably, was a distraction. Releasing another deep sigh, Thais unfurled her own delicate fan, crafted from the multicoloured feathers of some exotic Egyptian bird, and smiled with genuine pleasure as Hephaestion was shown into the room.

* * *

"Tell me, son of Amyntor," Thais said with teasing formality as she moved gracefully across the room to sit on his couch, "what is your opinion on women?"

Hephaestion gazed into her sparkling black eyes and smiled. "In what sense, exactly?"

"Well…" Thais sipped thoughtfully at her wine. "You don't seem to have much time for our sex… is that a severe judgement, or merely an oversight?"

Hephaestion shrugged, shifting comfortably. The tone of her voice, the very quality of her refined Athenian Greek, was marvellously soothing. "My life belongs to Alexander and his army," he replied easily, "the army is not a world for women."

"And yet we follow it most devotedly… and I think the men who make up its numbers are not ungrateful…?"

Hephaestion grinned. "No doubt, until they count their wages!"

"Ah..." Thais nodded sagely, "so _that's_ why you spurn our society! You're one of these cruel men who blame us for all the evils in the world!"

_"Aren't _women responsible for them?" Hephaestion suggested, holding out his cup to be refilled, "starting with Pandora, loosing plague and disease and all other miseries on the world because she couldn't do as she was told?"

"Curiosity was Pandora's ruin, yes… but without curiosity, what would we achieve? Surely you, Hephaestion, of all Alexander's Companions, have a lively curiosity in all things new?" she gestured gently towards his Persian robes.

Hephaestion shrugged, unconvinced. "But Pandora had many followers. Medea, for instance. Clytemnestra. Helen…"

"Medea acted terribly," Thais admitted, lazily stretching out her slender white arms, then lowering them, letting her fingers brush very lightly against Hephaestion knee. Her touch sent a strange shiver through him; her graceful, delicate movements entranced him. Her sweet, subtle perfume, a mixture of roses and jasmine, lulled him. It was hard not to lose the thread, to remain silent, to simply watch her. He took another large sip of wine, stirring himself as she continued, "but she only acted under terrible provocation – she sacrificed everything to be with Jason, to help him succeed in his quest, and how cruelly he repaid her! By abandoning her! And Clytemnestra too forgave Agamemnon much before he finally went too far… sacrificing her beloved daughter to achieve his dreams of glory…"

"A woman shouldn't kill her husband – or her children."

Thais shook her head. "Both women had their hearts broken by selfish men. No man's heart can break as a woman's can, Hephaestion. Beware of committing such a terrible crime!"

"I'll consider myself warned," he replied, looking deep into her eyes. She held his gaze for a long moment, then a ripple of musical laughter broke from her and she rose smoothly from the couch to wander absently across the room. Hephaestion watched her speculatively. Her gown was a simple Greek one, but of black silk so fine it seemed to flow about her curvaceous body like water. The colour suited her, contrasting with her immaculately pale skin and dark features, the only colour upon her that of her carefully painted red lips.

Hephaestion closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find something familiar to focus on. This whole evening was beginning to take on the quality of a dream. He was not even totally sure why he had sought Thais' company; except, perhaps, to prove to himself he was still capable of spontaneity – of acting without instruction from Alexander…

It was proving to be a delightful evening. Fine wine, excellent food, tasteful entertainment in the form of the lyre and the kithara played by Thais' own musicians and a young female singer performing a mildly romantic Athenian song. And above all, good, stimulating, amusing conversation. He needed this, Hephaestion realised as he opened his eyes once more and smiled across at Thais. He needed the attention of someone dedicated to his comfort and pleasure; he needed the simplicity of learned Greek conversation. Even more, he needed time away from the pressure of the Court, the Companions, the army itself. He was sick of the monotonous drinking parties with the inevitable boasting, arguing, clashing of rivals and toadying of opportunists that accompanied them. And to think the Macedonians considered them "honest" pleasures, in comparison to the decadent Persian banquets!

Hephaestion had stopped enjoying the drunken company of his friends since that terrible night Alexander had slain Cleitos. He had liked and respected the older General, been honoured to share command of the Companion Cavalry with him. But it wasn't Cleitos' death that haunted him. Had Cleitos been suspected of treason, Hephaestion would not have hesitated to treat him as he had treated Philotas. He would have happily wielded the spear himself if need be. As it was, as the veteran officer had stood there, yelling abuse at Alexander, Hephaestion had been ready to slam his fist into his face. But even he had not expected that Alexander would act so violently – and so quickly…

_I should have stopped him._ The thought still haunted him. _I failed Alexander. I should have protected him, even from himself._ Stupid, to dwell on such things. Hephaestion forced himself to dismiss the thought. Why ruin these pleasant moments with thoughts of things even the gods could not put to rights? Even so, a strange sadness touched Hephaestion as he pictured Alexander as he had been in Mieza, enjoying debates and discussions just like this. Alexander would enjoy this evening – would enjoy the company of this beautiful, charming woman, if he wasn't so quick and restive that only long drinking sessions seemed to calm him down. The wine took away his edge and numbed his brilliant mind, and still made him talk more than he listened.

"Have I lost you…?"

Hephaestion shook himself at the sound of Thais' voice. "Not at all," he replied with a sigh; "merely thrown me into a deep muse with your clever conversation… so you believe even the wickedest women can find justification?"

"I wouldn't say _that,"_ Thais answered, rejoining him on the couch, this time sitting closer to him. He was suddenly very aware of both the warmth and the fragility of her female body. "Only perhaps that their crimes are no worse than those of men… Tantalus, for example? Pelias? Atreus? Even Agamemnon?"

Hephaestion considered. "Men and women are different," he said finally, "women haven't the intellect – the emotional depth of men. They can't understand the heroic ideals of men. Or at least that's what we're taught."

"And yet, there are women who don't fit into the rigid pattern men have laid down…"

"Men?" Hephaestion questioned, finding his own voice dropping to an intimate whisper to match hers, "not the gods?"

"Ah, now that is another debate entirely – you're cheating, Hephaestion," Thais scolded him, reaching out long, slender fingers to touch his cheek. Barely knowing what he was doing, he reached out and clasped them, just as he might had she been Alexander. Then, because the one gesture seemed intrinsically bound to follow the other, he raised her hand to his lips. She smiled slightly, turning her head away. "You're still cheating," she declared. "But I was thinking in particular of Briseis."

Hephaestion's brows rose. "Achilles' woman? Was she in some way remarkable… except, once again, for causing trouble between men?"

Thais laughed. "Once again, the problems were caused not by her but the men around her. But still I consider her a woman of independent thought, even in spite of her captivity."

"I don't understand. She belonged to Achilles; she was given to Agamemnon. What chance had she to act independently?"

"She belonged to Achilles," Thais murmured, lifting her head to bring her face very close to his, "yet in the _Iliad _she expressed her love more vocally for Patroklos…"

"What…?" Hephaestion drew back slightly, wondering if he was being mocked. "You're not seriously suggesting they were lovers?"

"Actually, I was thinking of a different sort of love. Patroklos was neither lover nor kin to Briseis, yet she mourned him bitterly… I think, as a friend."

"The love of friends?" Hephaestion scoffed, "that love, the true love of souls is surely for men alone? _Can_ a man and a woman be friends?"

An odd, rather distant expression passed over Thais' eyes. "You've never encountered it before?"

Hephaestion was about to deny it, but then he thought of his own parents. There was more than just passion, more than just familiarity when his father looked at his mother. There was understanding…

"Perhaps," he said slowly, "it's something worth thinking about…" He smiled warmly, suddenly deeply grateful to her for drawing him out of himself, of freshening his mind and his soul with her clever, thoughtful words and her attentive society. Even of pleasing his tired eyes with her feminine beauty, such a contrast to endless rough, scarred, dust smeared soldiers. Almost in a dream he slipped his arms about her waist and drew her close. He saw the briefest flicker of hesitation on her face, the slightest tightening of her body; then she seemed to melt against him. The softness of her body was disconcerting, but also tantalising. She yielded submissively as he kissed her.

* * *

Alone with her in her bedchamber, surrounded by femininity, he felt clumsy and awkward. He had watched her shed her gown before him with pleasure, admiring the gentle curves of her fine figure and reaching out to caress her cool, silky skin. But when she drew him down onto her bed, he could not relax; she was so soft and pliant. Alexander was quite a bit smaller than him but he was hard and wiry. Hephaestion's growing passion was continually interrupted by the worry he might crush Thais with his weight, or bruise her with his strong warrior's hands. But her kisses were luxurious, her touch like cool water, and she radiated a modest, comforting assurance, neither laughing at his inexperience nor expecting him to know what he should do. She pushed him down and slipped on top of him, guiding his hands to the delightful fullness of her breasts. His caution lingered, restraining him from taking her roughly as he would another man, but that in itself drew out and intensified his pleasure. Giving himself slowly but absolutely to it, he allowed her to draw him into a new world.

TBC


	4. Chapter 3

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 3: **Thais, Hephaestion and Alexander all spend a long and restless night… and then Alexander has a mysterious visitor.

**NOTE: **It might be worth clarifying that the Ptolemy I describe is the historical one, not the nice actor in the film (and not Anthony Hopkins either!!) As far as I know the reckoning is that he was about 10 years older than Alexander and from the images that survive, good looks weren't his strong point… but I get the oddest feeling he had a sense of humour…

**EXTRA NOTE: **I know I'll keep saying this, but the warm response this story is already receiving surprises and delights me. Thank you to everyone! I will try to keep responding individually ASAP but **my home internet has temporarily gone down the toilet so there may be a small delay!**

And yes, Alexander is being thoughtless and rather selfish so far but he has a lot on his mind… as you will see…

* * *

Thais was awoken by the shifting of the sheets as he slipped out of her bed. She stayed still, keeping her breathing regular and her eyes closed. Better to let him think her asleep. If he wanted anything from her he would wake her; if he didn't it was surely better to let him leave undisturbed. 

As she lay there, listening to his soft movements, she was disturbed by a faint echo of regret. She was being foolish – had she really expected him to sleep the night? It was another example of her own complacency. She had grown used to having a man beside her whenever she woke. To having _one _man beside her.

Because she could neither rise to amuse herself with reading, or fall back asleep, she finally allowed her mind to wander back over the last few days. The violence of her reaction to Ptolemy's acceptance of Anahid had startled even Thais herself. It was not as if she had any real rights over Ptolemy – when one looked at it coldly, she was still a hetaera, and he was still her client. She knew he wasn't faithful and she had never expected him to be. But she had grown _used _to him. They had been together for so long – long before Alexander had led his army out of Macedon – and she had liked the life she had with Ptolemy; she had even grown to like _him._ Grown to _trust _him. Grown to expect that, in some strange unspoken way, he was hers just as she was his.

Stupid, sentimental, lazy whore! Expecting loyalty from a man!

When he had told her of Anahita she had laughed it off – jesting lightly that she hoped he didn't have an idea of bringing this Persian slut into their household. "Put her somewhere out of my sight and we'll say no more about it," she had said dryly. And then she had seen the look in his eyes – embarrassment, guilt, defiance – and known she was expected to share the very world she had helped to create for him.

She had screamed at him then; things she had never thought before, let alone spoken aloud. Just who did he think he was? _What_ did he think he was? Some Macedonian boor, uncultured and gauche. _She_ had refined his coarsely accented Greek; _she _had brought sophistication and beauty to his life, to his household, to his parties; _she _had beguiled and entertained both King Philip and King Alexander and with _her_ charm and beauty had made Ptolemy the envy of his friends.

Of course there was an element of truth in her words, but there was an even bigger element of spite, something she had thought herself beyond. She was a hetaera, a courtesan – not a wife. Her business was to please, not to shove the truth down the throats of her lovers. And Ptolemy was very sensitive when it came to his image of himself; he thought a great deal of his position in Alexander's army and his closeness to Alexander himself – probably rather more than Alexander thought of it, she admitted wryly. Ptolemy was still very proud of the fact he had been one of those chosen to guide and mentor the young prince; was ultimately even prouder of having suffered exile for him. But he was not stupid enough to trade on that alone; in his own way he was wily as a fox, a subtle opportunist posing as a straightforward soldier, never forcing himself forward but watching for his chance. Though he was undoubtedly fond of both Crateros and Hephaestion and she couldn't see him willing either to come to harm, if either was to come to grief she didn't imagine he would be too blinded by tears to lose sight of any new openings appearing either in the command hierarchy or the personal pecking order of Alexander's friends.

But that was not all there was to him – he was charming, easy going and gifted with a generous sense of humour which somehow made his homely features oddly appealing. His lack of beauty was something he made light of, never expecting painters or sculptors to flatter him. Whatever he was at Court or in battle, with Thais he was open and honest; conservative perhaps, but never unkind. A natural man for women, immune to the charms of boys and thus with high standards of what women should be, he expected much from her but rewarded her efforts with lavish gifts of money and presents and trusted her with the management of his retinue, his finances and his property. More than that, he had given her his time, often preferring to be alone with her instead of amidst the noise and hedonism of Macedonian drinking parties where both wine and women were freely available. And she _had_ grown used to him…

But of course she couldn't stay and share him with Anahita or Anahid or whatever her wretched name was. The thought of it! Glorified prostitute she might be and had certainly been called by jealous rivals, but among the women who followed the army she was almost a queen, recognised and respected by all. Without a prominent mistress in Alexander's life – Barsine could not be considered one; her position was far too respectable and important for that – Thais ruled almost unchallenged. To stand by and be humiliated by some barbarian child was quite unthinkable.

Thais opened her eyes as she heard the door click shut. She was alone. Well, she had better get used to being alone. Hephaestion was handsome, affable, intelligent and still inexperienced enough in the world of women to be subtly moulded the way she wanted him, at least for now. And she liked him – she liked his pride, his self-possession, his intellect. His devotion to Alexander was something women could admire in ways men simply wouldn't understand. He had enjoyed her company tonight, both in and out of bed, she was sure of that. If he had noticed any irony in the way she had let their conversation wander to the question of friendship between a man and a woman, he had been discreet enough to ignore it and was undoubtedly too young and too aware of his own beauty to think of older, unbeautiful Ptolemy as any sort of threat.

_Can_ a man and a woman be friends? That was what he had asked her.

Only this time her answer was a surprisingly bitter, angry _no._ And if stupid, sentimental little whores from Athens thought they could, then they deserved everything that happened to them.

* * *

Hephaestion laid aside the cup of chilled, well mixed wine his servant had brought and sank down onto cool, familiar sheets. A strange tranquillity settled had settled over him, leaving him quiet and calm and clear enough in his own mind to let his thoughts wander. 

_I'll find someone for you._ For days those words had gnawed at him, threatening to turn his whole world up on its end. At first he had only been angry at Alexander for dismissing his words as if they were some vexing little request he couldn't yet be bothered with. But then Hephaestion had thought it over and decided he should be angrier at himself.

_I'll_ find someone for you. It was bad enough Alexander had immediately assumed responsibility for finding Hephaestion a woman, but it was far worse that Hephaestion had not even thought to question him. What other officer would ask the king's permission before doing something as mundane as taking a mistress? True, Hephaestion's position was unique – he could never lose sight of the fact that he was Alexander's love as well as his friend and his soldier and Alexander sometimes had to be protected against his own violent and irrational jealousy. But there were limits, and Hephaestion had begun to realise they had both forgotten what they were.

When had he become the submissive yes-man others had so often accused him of being? Somehow, at some time, he had lost his edge, had become distracted and complacent, started to let Alexander do all of his thinking for him. He had let Alexander fob him off with vague promises of a wife without even bothering to ask her name. Did she even exist? And what had he been doing consulting Alexander before looking for a woman? Certainly Alexander had talked to him before taking Barsine and Roxana, but those had both been alliances with strategic and political connotations, needing careful thought and consideration. But this was a completely personal matter, something that should barely attract Alexander's notice, as a king, as a man – even as a lover.

It was wrong, it was all badly wrong.

Perhaps he had first gone to Thais to prove his point – Alexander's passing him over in favour of Ptolemy had rankled, even if he could guess at the real reasons behind it, and he had felt the need to assert his independence at last. But the night had become so much more than that. It had awakened him, reminded him who he really was, that he was more than simply "Alexander too", more than an extension of his lover's overwhelming personality. How defiant, how rebellious he had been when he had first met Alexander – he had thought nothing of shoving his princely little friend into the dust when he tried to boss Hephaestion around, of beating him soundly at all sorts of sports in front of his friends, of pretending not to notice Alexander's growing desire for him because it seemed more fun to keep him hungry, even of reducing him to tears with his stubborn resolve and unwillingness to bend. He had been a true little Athenian, demanding a citizen's rights, or so he had considered at the time. "A stuck-up little shit" was the less flattering verdict of some of Alexander's older friends, but Hephaestion had not cared. But then he had fallen in love, and without either of them meaning to, together, he and Alexander had smothered his natural fire.

Roxana had fire in her. It had attracted and excited Alexander; it had awoken him from the depression he had sunk into after Erigyius, after Cleitos. But it wasn't enough. Hephaestion knew that now. Until this night he had not known how to reignite his own fire to warm and brighten Alexander's path as well as his own. Now he had an idea how he might shine once more. Thais would guide him. She would help him rediscover himself. He was sure she could do it.

He had a sudden yearning to run to Alexander, to tell him all that had happened, to guide him back towards the light. But of course he was being a fool – Alexander was with Roxana, hopefully now in the throes of passion or asleep in her soft arms. Tonight Hephaestion would rest. Tomorrow he would continue his search.

* * *

Alexander made his way wearily back to his own chambers, hardly conscious of the soft tread of his page Hyacinthus behind him. His head and body were aching in ways they never seemed to after endless marches; even when he had reached his wife's bed, with heavy eyes and too much wine inside him, he had been worried he might fail to perform – hardly a fitting tale for a young bride to tell of her virile new husband. But somehow he had found the energy and she in turn had encouraged him, receiving him eagerly and awakening his passion in clever ways. 

Hephaestion still teased him relentlessly over his inability to keep pace with Roxana, but Alexander felt a little sorry for her – she was after all only a girl, for all her newly ripening feminine curves, and he had no doubt she was under as much pressure as he was to cement their alliance with an heir. He tried to be tender and loving, but he found himself growing more and more impatient with her as sleepless night followed sleepless night. They were hardly ever free of the presence of her maids and the interpreter he had given her except when they were ready to make love, and he was too bad tempered and restless to spend time helping her with her stumbling Greek as he had promised himself he would do the day he had decided to marry her.

Perhaps if he could sleep the night in her arms and wake with her in the morning things would become easier; he thought wistfully of the blissful mornings in Mieza when he had woken Hephaestion with a kiss and they had whispered frivolous, loving nothings to one another until they were called to breakfast. But the nightmares had been getting worse and worse and the last time he had fallen asleep beside Roxana he had awoken screaming and frightened the poor child nearly out of her mind. In fairness she had recovered quickly, had even drawn his head down against her breast and chanted soothingly to him her own language. But one time was easily forgotten. What about the next? It would hardly do for her to go running to her father to tell him he had married her to a raving madman!

But how lonely he was, lying awake in the shadows and fighting not only Hypnos and Morpheus but his own private demons who after fading into the shadows for so long had since the killing of Cleitos gradually clawed their way back into the light. He supposed he could call Bagoas to him; the boy was always discreet and wouldn't repeat anything he heard. But he was still a Persian who would expect certain things from the Great King and would, even if he barely admitted it to himself, surely note it as a weakness if Alexander called him to his bed simply to lie beside him, not to have sex.

The one he really wanted, of course, was Hephaestion. But that was out of the question. They were being too closely watched by all those who had a stake in seeing Alexander's marriage succeed – not to mention those who longed to see it fail. And then there were still the nightmares – what if Alexander cried out things in his sleep he did not want Hephaestion to hear? There would be questions, of course – questions Alexander did not want to answer. No – going to Hephaestion for comfort was simply too easy. And Alexander did not think he deserved an easy path back into the light, not after what he had done.

Life was never free of pain and loss – pain was always there, mingling with and souring the sweet taste of victory. The loss of his dear Hector in Egypt, a young man closer than any of Parmenion's other sons in age and in personality, a memory of childhood, of innocence and hope lost for ever. Then his brave, reliable brother Nikanor. Perhaps it was a blessing from the gods that both were gone before Alexander had had to execute Philotas and Parmenion. Philotas had at once been a subject of great bitterness and anger, and yet the loss of him had not hurt as deeply – Alexander had never entirely trusted him, never been close to him as he was to Hector. If he could have done it Alexander would have given the Companion Cavalry to Hephaestion the moment he became king, but of course Hephaestion was far too young and inexperienced and it would have made them both look like fools. Better, at the time, to offer gratitude to the powerful Parmenion and give his eldest sons the best commands. And how had his generosity been repaid? Alexander shut the matter out of his mind.

But newer pain was harder to ignore. Callisthenes. That was a bad enough business. And then the loss of his beloved Erigyius, his childhood mentor, even, in his way, an enduring link to Alexander's father Philip. Erigyius had not been the only one to guide him, the only one to suffer exile for him. Yet now, of all times, Alexander missed him – his straightforward bravery, his wry sense of humour, the way he had still teased both Alexander and Hephaestion with the flattery of a potential _erastes_ when both were far too old to be courted in that fashion. But none was worse than the loss of Cleitos.

Did they really think he had accepted what he had done? They had made suggestions to him that Cleitos was a traitor and he had wanted desperately to believe them. That idiot Anaxarchus of Abdera, that so-called philosopher, had spouted nonsense about Alexander being the personification of justice and therefore incapable of acting unjustly, and Alexander had been ashamed to find himself taking comfort from his fawning words until he had turned and found Hephaestion's liquid dark eyes upon him, heavy with rue.

They thought he was better now; the final victories in Sogdiana confirmed, his marriage arranged and consummated – for a while Alexander himself had thought it was all better. But the demons were there, scratching at his back and hissing in his ear, vanishing when he turned to challenge them. They would be with him tonight, when he finally lost his battle against Hypnos.

He would not send for Hephaestion. He would _not_ send for him.

Besides, Hephaestion was causing trouble of his own. What was all this sudden interest in women? Alexander had known what he wanted when he had suggested giving Anahid away; but to Alexander it was just one more unhappy change, one more problem to worry over, and he had put it from his mind and dispensed with the girl's increasingly irksome presence as quickly and thoughtlessly as he could. He had a sense Hephaestion was annoyed with him; his dearest friend had been quiet of late, keeping his distance. Well let him sulk, he'd get over it. Alexander had said he'd find a woman for him and he would – when he had more time to think about it. When he'd finally had a decent night's sleep. When he'd been punished enough to _deserve_ a decent night's sleep.

Alexander awoke from his muse when he saw a woman standing by the doors to his rooms, elegantly dressed in Sogdian garb. She bowed low before him. Alexander recognised her at once, but greeted her with a scowl. More tattling! What now? He was so tired he didn't care if she'd come to tell him Bagoas had been entertaining the entire Bodyguard in Alexander's bed for one talent a time. Or was it to be Barsine this time? Had they heard strange rumours that she had moved to Athens and was now the mistress of Demosthenes? He had been an idiot to listen to her about that kiss Bagoas had given Hephaestion after the wedding. What an idiot he had made of himself, getting jealous of his own eunuch! As if Hephaestion had ever looked twice at the boy!

"Great King," the woman began in her passable Greek, "I have news for you… of your favourite, the Lord Hephaestion…"

TBC


	5. Chapter 4

**REDISCOVERY by Moon71**

**CHAPTER 4: **Alexander has an unpleasant visitation, while Roxana muses on her marriage and her husband…

**WARNING: **Some of Alexander's dreams, starting with this chapter, are rather violent and gory. Erigyius and the severed head thing is based in fact - more on that later!

**NOTES:** Once again I must apologise for the delays in replying to reviews – **and to all my ATG friends – my internet connection is still a problem as I write, but hopefully will be sorted soon, so stick with me! **

**IN PARTICULAR to Lysis and Joyeee, thank you both for such long and lovely reviews on the last chapter with so much interesting observation - I want to discuss these with both of you, but I'll be "off-line" until about next Monday, so I'll catch up when I can!**

I think some of the behaviour of the characters in this story so far might be a bit confusing, but I hope it will all make sense in the end (it's confusing for me to explain things without giving the plot away, because I've got the complete "manuscript" and you all haven't. But we'll manage somehow!) This chapter is relatively short and – agghh!!! – has _no Hephaestion_ – but there is method in my madness. If anyone was confused by references to Hephaestion and Bagoas in the last chapter, please give _A time for lovers _a skim! It will help to understand future chapters too and I promise, in case anyone was put off by the idea of that story, it _isn't _Alexander / Bagoas!

* * *

"_Alexander!"_

The light had a sickly greenish hue. It was so bright it was blinding. He stood in the middle of the road, his arm raised to shield his eyes, listening to the clatter of hooves growing ever closer. He tried to find the energy to step out of the way but he was so tired, his very limbs seemed to be turning to stone. He struggled to cry out a warning as the horses thundered towards him in a cloud of choking dust.

"_Alexander!"_ The eerie cry came again, sending strange shivers through his body. It sounded more like the screech of some giant bird of prey than a human voice. _"Alexander! Alexander! Alexander!"_

"I'm… here…" he choked, clumsily waving his arms, groping to see past the light.

As if the words were a charm, all at once a large, dark figure stepped in front of the light and Alexander was set free to slump bonelessly onto his knees. Lifting his aching head, he looked up at the man on horseback before him as his name was called once more.

"_Alexander! Alexander! Alexander, it's me!" _The voice seemed to echo all about him.

"_Erigyius!" _Alexander cried out in joy and relief, crawling on his knees towards the rider. He clasping the hand that was held out to him, lavishing the most ardent kisses and caresses upon it. "Erigyius… oh, my dear… merciful gods, are you back at last?"

"Back and victorious, my dear Alexander," Erigyius replied, "and I have brought you a gift!" His laughter was deafening. _"Behold, I bring you the head of a traitor!"_

With that, he tossed down the head of his slain enemy. Alexander caught it, looked down upon it – and screamed.

"_CLEITOS!"_

He was still screaming when he awoke.

* * *

"Are you _sure _he's not a eunuch…?" Roshanak asked coyly as she swirled her long fingers through the oily, scented water. 

"Oh, of course I'm sure!" laughed Daena, "come, you've heard his voice – and I'm sure you've noticed his muscles!"

"Daena!" Roxana cried in mock indignation, "of course I haven't noticed. I've never even _looked_ in his direction!" She met her interpreter's eyes and they both dissolved into giggles. "Anyway," she continued at length, "he hasn't got a beard!"

"Neither has your husband King Alexander!"

"I know…" Roshanak sighed. "It seems very odd, Daena. To have a husband without one. But I _know _he's a real man… it's that Hephaestion I have my doubts about… I've heard the others talking…"

"My Princess, you know you mustn't listen to gossip!"

"I can't help it! It's different now… while I was still unmarried, the maids and the married women would stop their chatter when I came into the room… I always found it so frustrating! Whenever I'd ask what they were talking about they'd say it wasn't fit for the ears of an innocent girl! So now I'm married like them – like _you –_ you can't blame me for wanting to hear what I've been missing out on!"

"My dear, you are quite incorrigible," Daena sighed, combing her fingers through Roshanak's long dark hair with maternal affection. Roshanak did not mind her familiarity – though she had only been a part of her life for less than a month, she had grown to love the older woman who had been assigned to translate for her. Daena was something exotic to Roshanak – the daughter of a Persian Lady and a Greek mercenary officer highly placed under Memnon. When her Greek husband had surrendered to Alexander Daena's linguistic abilities and knowledge of both Greek and Persian customs had proved useful and she had managed to find a good position within Alexander's court for herself and her family. She had a witty way of talking and wasn't constantly telling Roshanak how she should behave; indeed she treated her as warmly as she did her own daughters who were not much younger than the princess herself. She let her ask awkward questions even if she did not always answer them, and Roshanak liked the fact that they could converse in Persian without Roshanak's maids listening in and repeating what she said to her parents.

"So is it true, Daena?" she asked softly, leaning over the side of the bathtub to put her hand on Daena's wrist. "About my husband the king and that… Hephaestion? Do they _really…"_

"Roshanak!"

"Oh, but Daena, it's so confusing! I don't understand these Greek ways!"

"Macedonian ways, my dear."

"But I find it so hard to tell the difference! The others were saying that the former King, Philip, was killed by his lover… who wasn't a eunuch either! Do Greek men really prefer other men to women or eunuchs? Does my husband Iskander…"

_"Al-ex-AND-er,"_ Daena corrected patiently.

"Yes, yes, but does he really lie with that…. Hephaestion?"

"Roshanak! Would you really want to hear something so awful about your own husband?"

Roshanak shrugged. If the story was true, it couldn't be any stranger than anything else about the man she had just married.

Her wedding night had been the strangest night of her life - and at the same time there had been something inevitable about it – how much more upside-down and back to front could things become, after all? All those years of struggling to perfect her Persian only to be married to a man who could not speak it… the endless training in the correct way to behave when she (hopefully) became the wife of a satrap or some other dignitary wasted when she became the wife of a man who hardly knew Persian customs… a man who looked more like a boy, who had yellow hair and eyes the colour of clouds… A man whose progress she and her people had watched first with scorn, then with disbelief, then with terror as one by one, great Persian cities fell before him like brittle old trees in the path of a gale, until he finally arrived to shatter her world and then try to put it back together again almost, but not quite, as it had been before. A man they had told her was called the Great Iskander, but was apparently really called… _Alik – zan –der_.

During her night with him she had had the strangest impression that he was somehow little more experienced than she was. He actually seemed _nervous,_ though she had been led to understand that he had kept a Persian Lady as his concubine for some years. He had been gentle with her when she had expected him to be masterful, but then again he had been clumsy and uncertain when she had expected him to be skilful. He hadn't hurt her or asked her to do anything barbaric or sordid – he hadn't even done anything her mother had not told her about before. He had kept trying to talk to her, though her Greek was limited to a few words guaranteed to flatter a new husband and his halting Persian was incomprehensible. The most annoying thing he had done was to persist in calling her "Roxana" so stubbornly that by now even her own father had started referring to her by that alien name. In the end, she had lain beside him, finding pleasure in the burning heat of his body but completely lost as to what was in his mind.

When he had finally left her and her mother had come to her, Roshanak had broken into a violent fit of tears and thrown herself into her mother's arms, bewildered by the utter strangeness of her husband and her new life. "I simply can't understand him, Mama," she had wept, "I don't know what he _wants_ of me!"

"Between you and me, my darling," her mother had replied grimly, glancing warily about her, though she had already sent their attendant ladies away, "From what I've been hearing I don't think _he_ knows what he wants of you either…!" But when Roxana had tried to question her further she had changed the subject.

In spite of all of that Roshanak had begun to rather enjoy her husband's visits; his boyish looks and his endless talking reminded her rather of her brothers and she liked it when he sat with her and talked or read to her, with Daena translating discreetly. But then he had had that dreadful nightmare and though he had let her comfort him, he had stopped staying the night. She could not understand it – she knew only too well what nightmares were, she had had plenty while her husband to be was besieging her people on the Sogdian rock; but he had been embarrassed and almost seemed angry with _her_ for witnessing it. After that, she had begun to feel lonely in her bed and had sent for one or other of her maids to keep her company. She rather wished she could have sent for Daena, but she of course would want to be with her family. And now Alexander seemed more and more unhappy and distracted, and her father, who was still sulking over the visit of the Armenioi, was complaining she had failed to please him!

Sighing, Roshanak stepped from her bath and let her maid Armati dry her soft skin while Daena regarded her with a warm smile. "I've heard he doesn't have any women in his retinue," Roshanak commented, "that Hephaestion, I mean… doesn't he like them?"

"There you see," Daena's eyes glittered triumphantly, "I've told you not to pay attention to gossip! He does have a woman – a Greek lady named Thais."

_"That one!"_ Roshanak glanced at Armati, who, for a girl who couldn't speak Persian, seemed to listen very attentively to her conversations with Daena, "wasn't she the one they say encouraged my husband King Iskander to burn down Persepolis? But I thought she was the woman of one of the other men! Did he give her to Hephaestion?"

"Roshanak, my dear, I really don't think…"

"Maybe," Roshanak gasped, her dark eyes glittering with mischief, "Hephaestion took her so no-one would think he was lying with Iskander!"

Daena rolled her eyes in despair.


	6. Chapter 5

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 5: **Alexander and Hephaestion go for an early morning ride, but Alexander brings along some unwelcome companions…

**NOTE: **I think the term "demon" in Alexander's world might be a bit anachronistic, but I couldn't find a good ancient Greek version – the term "daemon", defined on dictionary . com as "a subordinate deity, as the genius of a place or a person's attendant spirit", really doesn't express the personal and malevolent nature of the creatures I'm trying to describe!

Things might be still more confusing here… but keep in mind the finished story exists so I do know what I'm doing (I think…) More POVs are coming, including (of course!) Ptolemy and Hephaestion's view on "taking" Thais away from him. And there will be more of Anahid in a few chapters time. Meanwhile, this chapter is ALL Alexander and Hephaestion… alone together… (ahhh…)

**My main internet connection is still down and I'll be out of human contact for a few days, but please be assured reviews WILL be acknowledged. The warm, intelligent, challenging reviews this is receiving are giving me unequalled pleasure. I feel a bit like a cat getting stroked – believe me, all of you, if you like my stories, telling me what you think is the way to get more of them! (Actually even if you don't like anything in them, that still tends to make me write more…)**

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They raced one another across the plain, forgetting everything but the wind in their hair and landscape flashing by their eyes. Alexander heard Hephaestion's laughter and momentarily allowed himself the simple pleasure of laughing too, throwing out his arm and shaking his fist in victory as he finally gained the lead.

"I win," he cried as they finally slowed the pace, "the triumph is mine!"

"Bucephalus won for you," countered Hephaestion, "and only by default – poor Golden is getting old. He won't see another battle… as it was, he struggled all through the Bactrian campaigns."

"Is that a request for a new charger, my friend…?" Alexander teased. When Hephaestion shrugged and looked away, stroking Golden's neck, he continued, "one of the stallions the Armenioi brought? Apparently they're as famous here for horse-breeding as the Thessalians are back home. I've hardly had a chance to look at them – we'll go and see them when we get back to the stables. I remember there was a beautiful dappled bay…" Alexander stopped as he saw Hephaestion grinning at him. "What…?"

"Nothing," Hephaestion replied slowly, "only… it's good. All of it. This morning… the ride… it's good, Alé."

Alexander tried to smile back, but instead felt his face settling into a frown. He could see how pleased Hephaestion had been when he had suggested they go riding that morning, how charmed he was when Alexander had even ordered food and wine to be packed for their breakfast. "It reminds me of Mieza," he had commented as they mounted their horses. It had put Alexander off the real reason he had wanted to be alone with Hephaestion.

_Ask him, then, coward! Why else did you bring him out here where nobody could hear you! Ask him!_

"I hear you've been spending some … interesting evenings, these past few days, Hephaestion," Alexander began, watching his friend from the corner of his eye.

Hephaestion did not miss a beat. "Are you having me watched, Sire?" he asked with a small smile, casually smoothing Golden's brightly coloured saddle cloth.

Alexander was angered to find himself blushing. "No… no, of course not."

"I have been having an interesting time," Hephaestion continued easily, "would you like to hear about it?"

"Would you like to tell me about it?"

"Not particularly…" Hephaestion murmured, glancing about him for a suitable place to stop. "At this moment I don't really want to talk about anything I do when I'm not with you. I don't even want to think about such things. I'm with you now… and when I'm with you, it seems to me that's all that matters…"

Alexander's frown deepened, but he remained silent, nudging Bucephalus forward and pointing in the direction of the shade of a large spreading tree. Hephaestion nodded and guided Golden to follow.

_Coward! Coward! Coward!_

He had to say something… or did he? Was it really better to say nothing? Would actions speak louder than words? Alexander glanced about the landscape surrounding them. It seemed deserted, but one could never tell. He gazed across to the distant rocky hills, downwards to a mist shrouded valley. He supposed there was time and privacy enough for a quick fumble up against a tree, but they weren't sex-crazed youths anymore and that wasn't what he wanted from Hephaestion just then. He needed time alone with him – time to love him and to rediscover him. For Hephaestion was changing, Alexander could see that, and a dull fear was growing in the back of his mind that if the change continued without him he might lose a precious part of Hephaestion forever. And he couldn't bear that. He had always been possessive of Hephaestion – there were times, even now, when he seemed close to owning the world, that he seemed to look around him and be able to call nothing his; nothing but his beloved, his friend, his other, stronger, better half. But reclaiming him would take time, would necessarily mean intimacy, confidences, honesty – from both of them. And Alexander was not ready share his woes; he was not even sure he was ready to hear Hephaestion's.

There was already something different about him. He seemed to have gained a new confidence and with it renewed patience with people who so often annoyed him. Instead of being hot tempered he had subsided back into his old Athenian disdain, looking down his nose at those he considered too boorish to understand him or his Alexander. Even the way he spoke seemed to have altered – he was speaking Greek more often, even to Alexander, and his Macedonian had reacquired its slight Southern accent. Or was Alexander imagining all of it? Was he listening to his demons more than he realised?

They had always been with him, buzzing in the background – he could hardly remember a time when they had not been somewhere near. He had learned not to indulge them; he never looked for them, rarely listened to them except when his spirits were low or his heart was aching. He had never wanted to know who or what they were or where they came from; all he knew was that Hephaestion's arrival in his life had sent them scurrying deep into the shadows like frightened vermin in the presence of a house snake and they had rarely dared to venture back – until now. Did they sense something in their cunning, predatory way? Did they sense a loss of interest in Hephaestion, a fading of his love? Or was that merely what they wanted Alexander to believe?

It was with a powerful sense of shame that Alexander had agreed to continue hearing the woman's reports of Hephaestion's nocturnal activities over the last four nights. It was with perhaps even more shame that he had drawn relief from the fact that Hephaestion had not as yet spent the entire night with his new… interest. But what if… what _if…_

_He's grown bored with you! I told you he would!_

_You never told me anything of the sort, _Alexander threw back, _you liked him well enough until you realised he'd share my life in a way you never could!_

_He's bored! Bored! BORED!_

"_Shut up!"_ Alexander gasped out the words before he could stop himself.

"Alexander…?" Hephaestion, who had dismounted and was occupied in feeding his horse one of the apples packed for their breakfast, looked across at Alexander in surprise. "Did you say something?"

Alexander shook his head. "I've been thinking about Bagoas…"

"Have you…?" Hephaestion asked lightly, beginning to unpack their meal, "well, I suppose that's healthy… a sign Roxana hasn't completely sapped your energies…"

Alexander ignored the teasing. "I'm going to give him his own accommodation. His own household – on a small scale, of course." He watched Hephaestion's handsome face closely, but he seemed quite indifferent.

"Why not, after all?" Hephaestion observed, "he's proved his worth by now, and he's taking on a fairly important role at Court… giving him his own rooms would be more appropriate…"

"So you think it's a good idea?"

"As a matter of fact I'm surprised you haven't done it before now!"

"You think I should have?"

Hephaestion shrugged thoughtfully. "No, not really… its just that you're usually so generous to those who show their loyalty… but then I suppose the poor little bugger has rather become part of the furniture…"

"You mean he's always around?" Alexander demanded suddenly, jumping down from his mount to stand in front of Hephaestion, "getting in the way?"

Hephaestion frowned, looking at him for the first time. "No, that's not what I meant. The boy's been good, looking after you. Better than some of your self-centred Pages… I always thought you got too involved with them… took it all too personally… but then you always were a fool for a pretty face!"

"You ought to know, Hephaestion…" Alexander sighed, rapidly losing the will to continue with the subject, "besides, you're a fine one to talk, the way you mother your elite little group!"

"My boys don't need harsh discipline," Hephaestion replied regally, "they know the punishment if they don't behave."

"Oh? And what's that…?"

Hephaestion grinned. "Being assigned away from me, of course!"

Alexander shuddered. "A cruel and terrible punishment indeed!"

"Enough of that… I'm dying from hunger and thirst! Come and sit down next to me, Alexander…" Sinking down onto the grass beneath the tree, Hephaestion looked up at his sovereign with eyes warmed by love. Feeling his chest tighten, Alexander dropped to a crouch beside him.

_I'll tell him,_ he thought with determination, _I'll tell him everything. Right now! He'll understand!_

_Coward!_ The demon hissed in his ear again. _Whimpering boy! That's right, have Hephaestion kiss it better and then forget about it! Run away again! It wasn't _really _your fault after all! _He_ made you do it! They all _made _you do it! Nothing is ever your fault!_

"Alexander…?" Hephaestion's gentle voice broke into his thoughts once more. Alexander shook his head. "What is it?"

"Nothing, nothing… I was just thinking…"

"Alexander…" Hephaestion leaned forward and took Alexander's hands in his. The very warmth of his clasp, the soft, encouraging look in his eyes, made Alexander yearn to be in his arms, to confide everything at last. "Alexander… Alé… talk to me."

_Coward! _ "I can't."

Hephaestion raised both of Alexander's hands to his lips, kissing them fervently. "I know you're troubled, Alexander… the others might believe everything's alright again, but _I_ know it isn't. Please, won't you talk to me?"

"No. Not yet."

"In the name of Zeus, Alexander," Hephaestion sighed in exasperation, "haven't you tortured yourself enough yet?"

Alexander spun on him, his heart picking up a quick beat, tearing his hands free from Hephaestion's grasp. "What in Hades is _that_ supposed to mean?"

_"Talk to me."_

_"NO! NO! NO!_ _What part of "no" don't you understand, don't you listen to a single word I - " _Alexander broke off with a gasp, realising with sickening horror that he had been reaching to seize Hephaestion by the throat. _Only to quieten him, _he insisted to himself desperately, _only to stop him talking!_

_Why don't you use a spear? That worked the last time!_

"Alexander…" Hephaestion called, as if from far away.

Alexander ignored him, his eyes straying to the thick, dark green ivy clambering tenaciously up the jagged, mountainous terrain where it surely had to struggle to survive. The sight of it unsettled him. Perhaps it was an omen; perhaps just another sneering reminder of his weakness. Despite the clear brightness of the day, shadows seemed to gather around him, depressing his spirits, filling him with a sullen, sluggish bitterness. He wanted to be angry; he wanted to scream and tear at his demons and the gods together. But no anger would come; only memories of looking at Cleitos through a reddened drunken haze and seeing the look in his fierce eyes – astonishment, indignation, reproach… and something else. Some sort of grim satisfaction, as if his death at Alexander's hands was proof of everything he had just charged his king with. "Sometimes I feel Dionysus himself is working against me, Hephaestion," he murmured, reaching out to tug at the ivy, crushing the leaves between his fingers. "He has had some influence in our recent misfortunes… Maybe he resents me trying to follow in his footsteps?"

"I doubt that, Alexander," he heard Hephaestion say, his voice sounding muffled, as if he was speaking through a thick fog.

Alexander laughed sourly. "You're right. Why would he bother? More likely its my mother's prayers he's answering… you know how much she resents my not inviting her to join us…"

"Facetiousness is unbecoming in a King, Alexander," he heard Hephaestion answer, "blasphemy even more so. Do you really think Dionysus would be interested in the bitter whispers of jealous woman?"

_See how he speaks to you! He no longer feels the need to show you respect!_

_Hah! Yes, how _dare_ he speak to you like that Alexander! Who needs a spear? Cut his throat! _

Alexander turned his head in Hephaestion's direction but could not see him.

"Agamemnon blamed the gods for his feud with Achilles – aren't I allowed to make the same excuses for myself..?"

"Agamemnon could never see past his own pride."

"…Nor could Achilles…" Alexander cried softly, his throat constricting as he groped blindly for his friend, "…until it was too late…" His hands found warm skin, solid muscle; a familiar musky scent filled his nostrils. He clung on tightly. Finding Hephaestion's lips at last, he stifled any protests with a rough, hungry kiss. A quick fumble might not be the solution to everything, but at least it would drive the hissing demons back for a while. But perhaps Hephaestion would find such roughness vulgar now, the greedy grasping of a spoilt child instead of the sophisticated caresses of a woman of pleasure…

_He has her now. What does he want with an overgrown boy like you? _

_You should be ashamed of yourself, boy – still giving yourself to him like a lovesick girl… enjoy him if you want, but never submit to him! You're his king, his leader… how can he feel anything but contempt for you? _

_You're wrong!_ Alexander cursed the demons, _you're both wrong!_

And indeed Hephaestion welcomed him, knowing, as he always did, just what Alexander needed; the only one Alexander had ever found who could change his mood, even the pattern of his thoughts, as quickly as Alexander himself. Relief spread through him like ecstasy as he felt Hephaestion surrender himself joyfully to Alexander's advances even as he had back in Mieza when Alexander had surprised and delighted him in taking the initiative, so shy had he been during the beginning of their love.

Sometimes back then Alexander had been almost frightened by Hephaestion's enthusiasm and willingness do anything Alexander wanted – not because he was desperate to please, but because nothing they did together had ever seemed unnatural or depraved to him. So often during the early days of passion, when they had lain together, temporarily sated, Alexander had rested in his friend's arms softly trembling with confusion and doubt. It was as if Hephaestion was able to reach inside him and draw out his deepest, most well suppressed desires; as if Hephaestion was slowly eating him alive. Again and again when the morning came he would resolve to limit their lovemaking in both frequency and variety, only to forget his vows when the night came.

And even now, nothing had changed. He could still lose himself in his beloved, forget everything but him, find safety in him even as he seemed so close to losing him and his world seemed to be tearing itself apart from the inside out.

oooooooooooooo

I've… missed you," he said in a whisper, stroking his fingers lightly across Hephaestion's breast as they reclined against the trunk of the large tree which had sheltered them during their passion. "I know how stupid that sounds, but I _have _missed you…"

"I've missed you too," Hephaestion said softly and solemnly, brushing back the golden curls from Alexander's brow before pressing his lips to it. "I miss you still."

The meaning was plain. Alexander swallowed and reached for the wine jar tucked into the pack which lay beside them. "Not yet, Tion," he breathed, "not yet…"

He felt Hephaestion sigh, but all his friend said was, "pass me one of those apples… I'm starving…"

"It will be easier once we're on the move again. Another month at the most. Then we'll have more time… time like this…"

"You know we won't, dear heart," Hephaestion said with gentle patience, "but it doesn't matter. This is the life we chose, and I for one have no regrets. Who knows? If we'd stopped to live a lazy, pampered life in Babylon or Persepolis, surrounded by every pleasure known to man or god, perhaps we'd be bored with one another by now!"

_"No!" _Alexander nearly choked on the wine he had been drinking. "I would always turn to you first, Hephaestion – for love, for comfort… and for pleasure… maybe I can't always do so physically, but I will always do so in my heart…"

"How sweet you still are," Hephaestion murmured as he nibbled at an apple, "underneath that scarred, battle-hardened warrior, my sweet, lovesick little boy still lives on…"

"How easily you reduce me back to that, Hephaestion," Alexander sighed, passing him the wine cup.

"I have to, Alexander," Hephaestion replied as he took a large swallow of wine and wiped his lips, "for fear if I don't I might throw myself at your feet like one of the Persians and be unable to look up into your face…" As Alexander stared at him, he gave an absent sniff and began to rummage through the basket which had contained their breakfast. "Are there anymore of those delicious pastries stuffed with goat's cheese left…?"

Oooooooooooooo

The sun was climbing high in the sky when they finally rose from under the tree and went to their horses. Shielding his eyes from the light, Alexander stroked Bucephalus' glossy black coat as he straightened his saddle cloth and gently coaxed the horse to kneel for him to mount, a Persian trick he was still ridiculously proud of. Suddenly he looked across at Hephaestion. "What would you say if I told you to just keep riding?" he asked breathlessly, "Just to keep riding away from the direction of the setting sun, to keep riding and riding and leave everything behind… just you and me, alone… forever… nobody to come between us, nobody to distract us… we'd live by hunting and foraging and keep with us only what we needed from one day to the next…"

Hephaestion's laughter resonated through the peaceful air. "Nothing to conquer? No-one to defeat? What would we do with ourselves?"

"Talk… laugh… love… dream…"

"Die of cold, hunger and boredom…"

"But if I asked," Alexander whispered, "would you?"

Hephaestion gazed up at him without answering. But then he took Golden's reins, led him gently over to Bucephalus' side and to Alexander's astonishment swung himself up onto the black horse's back. Bucephalus snorted, but he had grown used enough to Hephaestion over the years and he subsided when Alexander stroked his strong neck.

"I told you, Alexander," Hephaestion said finally, putting his hands on Alexander's waist just below the ribs where he knew his lover was most sensitive, "Golden is getting old. He's too tired to carry me after all that racing."

"Bucephalus is probably just as old…"

"But he hasn't had to carry my fat hide around all these years! He's been lucky enough to have you… still as light and slender as a barley stalk…" Alexander moaned softly as he felt Hephaestion's kiss upon the back of his neck. "Come, take us back," his friend whispered into his ear, "once we've conquered the world, we'll run away and let someone else take care of it…"

TBC


	7. Chapter 6

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 6: **Hephaestion decides it's time to take action and calls upon some advice from his father; Helenus has a task to perform and the increasingly lonely and troubled Alexander finds some unexpected solace…

**NOTE: **To **Coral** – Alexander and Hephaestion getting divorced? It's an interesting thought, though utterly heartless and unfeeling of course… To **Joyeee – **Gestapo Hephaestion enters stage left! **To everyone else – **If you're utterly confused by this chapter, good references are _A time for Lovers, The Other Half _and _Competing for Second Place. _And yes, I know Alexander and Hephaestion are having a hard time, but the loving is coming… in the far future…

* * *

Once the horses had been stabled and Alexander had been captured by Eumenes, Hephaestion had returned to his work in good spirits. He entered the room he had seconded for a study and paused briefly to gaze at his most treasured possession – a small likeness of Alexander by Lyssipos, cast in bronze. Its lifelike qualities could be comforting and eerie by turns; sometimes, when he was in the middle of complaining about the impossible task Alexander had set him of putting together a fortified town out of nothing, or supplying the entire army for a whole winter, he had fancied it might turn its head towards him and cast a reproachful glance. Now he gently caressed its cool metallic locks and smiled.

He was proud of Alexander, thought he could never tell him so. For a moment during their ride he had expected a huge argument over Thais – Alexander had been ready for one, Hephaestion could see that. And he would have had one too; Hephaestion had no intention of justifying himself in what to him was and had to remain the most trivial of matters. Nor, had Alexander demanded it, would he have given her up without considerable protest. But Alexander had backed down almost immediately and responded quickly to Hephaestion's reassurance. If Hephaestion hadn't known him as well he might have taken it as a sign Alexander was getting better.

Sadly Hephaestion did not have the luxury of ignorance – or willful naïveté – that protected the others. Let them believe Cleitus was forgotten, Callisthenes' supporters forgiven, Erigyius sufficiently mourned. Hephaestion knew better.

His Alexander was still there; Hephaestion knew it for certain when he had finally lost his temper over what struck him as Alexander bathing in his own self-pity. Blaming the gods for ones misfortunes was common enough, but when Alexander had begun blaming Olympias Hephaestion had lost patience, had perhaps been on the verge of panic. At that moment it had been as if he was trying to shout to Alexander over a great distance which was widening between them – at first it appeared Alexander could not hear him, or no longer cared to, so when Alexander had reached for him Hephaestion had gone to him willingly, determined to let him take whatever he needed, glad he still had something to offer, glad it was still him Alexander turned to before all others. For now, there was little more he could do. But there were ways he could lessen his own troubles and Alexander's with them.

It was not surprising that Alexander should know about Thais this morning – by now, half the army knew about it and Hephaestion was already the subject of many jealous sneers, indignant complaints and bawdy jokes. He ignored all of it; as far as he was concerned, he had not stolen Thais from Ptolemy, and even if he had, all was fair, wasn't it, in love and war? Besides, surely Ptolemy would be insulted to think that anyone could consider him that sentimental over a woman? He had the beautiful Anahid to charm him with her singing and keep him warm with her lovely body. What worried Hephaestion was that Alexander had been informed about his liaison with the Athenian hetaera only hours after it had happened.

The trouble had really started just after Alexander's wedding night. Hephaestion had caught little Bagoas kissing some other Persian eunuch - some past friend or lover from what Hephaestion could glean – in a way that suggested the two of them had recently been intimate… well, he reflected, as intimate as two eunuchs could be. He had never seen Bagoas with his clothes off and had no real desire to know what he did or didn't have and could or couldn't do. Judging it as an inconsequential matter not to be reported to Alexander, he had told Bagoas the matter would go no further. Emotional as always, the silly boy had kissed him. Hephaestion had laughed it off – until someone else had gone whispering about it to Alexander.

Hephaestion had briefly resolved to find out whom that someone was, but had rapidly lost interest in the matter over the days that followed. No doubt it was just some jealous camp-follower or some Persian who disliked Bagoas or even Bagoas' friend. It might even have been one of the Macedonians, many of whom disliked Bagoas on principle. So Hephaestion had thought, until Alexander's page Hyacinthus had brought him the news that a woman had been waiting for Alexander when they had returned from Roxana's rooms.

Hyacinthus was one of Hephaestion's secret weapons – a spy right in Alexander's rooms, one even King himself was unaware of. None of Alexander's household knew about him, not even Hephaestion's pages had a clue. Hyacinthus had caught Alexander's eye for a while and it had been he, not Bagoas, who had first led the astonishingly chaste Alexander into considering taking others than Hephaestion to his bed. He was a pretty boy of that peculiarly Macedonian type; seeing his honey coloured hair and pale blue eyes, Hephaestion had teased Alexander relentlessly about the infatuation, calling him "the new Narcissus" and accusing him of falling in love with his own reflection. The fact that Alexander's own page Narcissus was possibly the most promiscuous boy in the army had vexed Alexander even more, but Hephaestion had not backed off – if he couldn't make fun of Alexander now he was a king, a barrier would grow between them, getting higher each time he held his tongue.

Poor Alexander – so fine a judge of character until it came to beauty – he had mistaken that quiet reserve for chaste innocence, but Hephaestion had soon spotted it for what it was; intent watchfulness. The boy was born to be a spy. He reminded Hephaestion of one of those Nile crocodiles, which floated in the water or lazed upon the banks so quietly, waiting days if necessary, until one forgot they were there – and then they attacked. Indeed he seemed to enjoy watching Alexander far more than being loved by him and the affair had never progressed very far. Not that Hyacinthus was to spy _on_ his king, only to see to his security – and to keep an ear on what might be said about Hephaestion by others in Alexander's company, of course.

So now he knew it was a woman. Very possibly Persian or Sogdian. And it would seem that it was he, Hephaestion, who was the target of this woman's reports, not Bagoas at all. That made it far more serious. Hephaestion had waited for a few days to act; he wanted time alone to judge the effect on Alexander first. His beloved friend was dealing with it well, but Alexander was unsettled enough at the moment without someone feeding his worried mind with spiteful gossip. Besides, if it was he, Hephaestion who was the intended target, not Bagoas, the matter took on a whole new importance.

Hyacinthus had been useful this far, but he was not the one to take it forward. There was a far better way to deal with this – the method his father had cheerfully called the Love Route. _It's subtle, Hephaestion,_ he could hear Amyntor saying, _far more subtle than torture or threats. Think about it. Would you do something more willingly for someone offering you kisses, or someone offering you blows? Would you fight harder if you thought you were helping or protecting someone you love, or if you were being threatened with a beating? _

"Nireus!" Hephaestion called for his eldest page. He didn't like having the boys hovering about him; usually he made them wait in the outer rooms and left the doors slightly ajar so that he could call to them if they were needed.

"Yes, Hephaestion." Nireus appeared in an instant. Hephaestion studied him thoughtfully for a moment. With his flattened nose, crushed cheekbone and squinting eye, he obviously lacked the symmetrical perfection venerated by the Greeks. But amongst war-scarred Macedonian veterans he stood out only by his youth. It had not stopped him being the beloved of at least one member of the Thessalian cavalry in his earlier years, nor had it later prevented him from becoming the lover of one of Alexander's prettiest Pages.

"That little Helenus," Hephaestion finally began, "is he still your beloved?"

At the mention of the other boy, one of those extraordinarily sweet smiles dawned upon Nireus' disfigured features. "Oh yes, Hephaestion! As a matter of fact, we…"

Hephaestion waved his hand impatiently. He did not have the time for tales of young love. "I need something taken care of," he said in a tone the boy instantly recognized. At once the dreamy look left Nireus' dark eyes and Hephaestion had his full attention. "How bright is he? Can you trust him to pass on a message without stuffing it up? And to keep his mouth shut afterwards?"

"Absolutely, sir," Nireus answered gravely.

"And he won't go asking questions?"

Nireus smiled again, but now it was his wolf's smile, the one he rarely showed. "Not if I ask in the right way, Hephaestion."

Hephaestion eyed him shrewdly, then beckoned him to the desk and handed him a stylus and some parchment. The message couldn't be passed verbally; nor could it be discovered in Hephaestion's hand or his scribe's; Alexander would recognize either too easily. Nireus wouldn't gossip, even to his family – not unless he wanted to earn his beloved a beating. And for the same reason he would see to it Helenus didn't get curious about what the note said. "Write this down," he told Nireus, and began to dictate.

* * *

Helenus could not help a sigh of relief as soon as Alexander had left the room with another of the pages in tow, to spend the evening with his new bride and her family. The King had returned from his ride with Hephaestion in good spirits, held an audience with yet another of those visiting delegations from – Helenus could not remember, there were so many tribes in Bactria – and then returned to his rooms once more. He had then sent for Bagoas, but had taken him not into the bedroom but one of the private audience rooms and sent for two of his stewards as well. A short while later the Persian eunuch had reappeared, looking intensely pleased with himself, and Alexander had sent word he would sleep the rest of the afternoon and was to be woken at sunset to be bathed and dressed for dinner. Helenus had been rather relieved about this – he and the others were only too aware of Alexander's recently intensified insomnia, waking them at all hours of the night to dress him, to read to him or to follow him on some aimless sleep-defying trek through the corridors. And his moods were so erratic and his temper so short, they were beginning to feel as though they were on permanent alert.

All had been fine until Helenus had gone to waken him – perhaps he had disturbed him during a bad dream, or perhaps Alexander had simply not wanted to be woken from the first good sleep he had enjoyed in some time, but the king had reacted with fury, slapping the boy hard across the face and grabbing him by his chiton. Helenus' cries of dismay had brought Narcissus, who had been angry enough to push Alexander off his brother and dare to stand between them. For a moment Alexander had looked as though he had wanted to kill both of them on the spot, but then he had subsided, clutching at his head. "Forgive me," Helenus heard him mumble.

Helenus had looked in fear at Narcissus, who, despite his resolute expression, was obviously frightened too. At the very least, laying hands on Alexander would earn him a beating. "Alexander…" Helenus had whispered hopelessly, wondering what use his pleas would be.

"Forgive me," Alexander repeated, looking directly into Helenus' eyes. "You – startled me." Rising from the bed, he suddenly put his hand on Helenus' slender shoulder, drew him closer and startled him by placing a warm, paternal kiss on his brow. "The matter is forgotten," he added, speaking to Helenus but obviously intending the words to be heard by Narcissus. "See that my bath is prepared."

"Of course, Alexander," Helenus replied with a smile, always ready to forgive his King, and raised his eyes to Alexander's at last. What he saw in them distracted him so much that he barely heard Alexander dismiss them, or, a moment later, Narcissus ask him if he was all right. "I… yes, I'm fine," Helenus answered slowly. He looked up at his brother, smiled, and leaned in to exchange a quick, reassuring kiss. But as he went to call for the servants, the image of Alexander's grey eyes, brimming with tears and clouded with misery, lingered in his mind.

Once Alexander was gone, he slipped out of Alexander's chambers and headed out to where he hoped his lover might be waiting for him. Nireus did not disappoint him.

"Joy to you, little honey-cake!"

In spite of his relief, Helenus struggled against the strong arms which encircled him almost as soon as he had stepped into the corridor. "I hate it when you call me that!"

Nireus laughed, planting a kiss on Helenus' neck. "You don't object when my uncle Thanatos calls you that!"

"I don't object when your uncle pinches my bottom, but it doesn't mean I like it!"

Hephaestion's page turned Alexander's around to face him, giving him a sympathetic smile. "The next time he does that, slap him across the face!"

Helenus gasped. "But he's a Cavalry officer!"

"And you're a Royal Page! Come on, my love – you've got to stand up for yourself! Being pretty won't get you very far for very long – unless of course you plan to drop me and get yourself a more highly placed lover…"

"Now you sound like Narcissus!" Helenus sighed. He was used to being teased; he knew he could never keep up with the quick workings of the minds of his lover Nireus or his brother Narcissus and there were times when he wondered if being pretty was about the only gift the gods had blessed him with at birth. Well, he had thought about making use of it, but Eros had had other ideas, making him fall in love with boy only a couple of years older than himself, and not even as well connected as he was. Nireus' family had only joined up with Alexander and his Macedonians when the Thessalian Cavalry had come under Alexander's control; they might be highly respected in the South, but here it was the Macedonians who had the upper hand. Well, the Macedonians or the Persians… these days it seemed to depend on who you listened to!

His chain of thought was broken by Nireus' large hands sliding slowly down his back, over his hips. "Beloved," the older boy said softly, "I need you to do something for me…"

Helenus moaned softly under his touch. "Anything…"

Nireus shifted, pressing a folded note into his hand. "Pass this along to Bagoas for me, my love," he whispered into Helenus' ear, "and be discreet."

Helenus had been having a thoroughly rotten day and it seemed to him that this was the last straw. "Bagoas!" he squealed, "what in Hades are you doing with notes for _him?_ Do you have a liking for _him_ now, is that it? How can you? I've seen him with his clothes off in the bath-house – he's shaped practically like a girl!" A thought occurred, "is that what it is? Have you decided its time you started on girls?"

Nireus scowled at him. "The way you're carrying on, it sounds as though I've already got one! You sound like a little harpy!"

"Well you would too if you'd…" Helenus broke off, but Nireus was too quick. Those dark eyes fixed upon him and would not let him go.

"What's wrong?" Hephaestion's page demanded, "has something happened? Tell me, love," he added in a gentler tone, caressing Helenus' cheek.

"I can't, not here," Helenus sighed. He had not wanted to tell his lover about what had happened with Alexander, but he knew now he would have to. And maybe, he reasoned, it was not such a bad thing. If Nireus could talk to Hephaestion… the idea of Helenus being so open with Alexander was absurd, but Hephaestion was different. Confusing. For all his beauty and his intelligence, he frightened Helenus a little because it was so hard to know what he was really thinking, but Nireus and the others seemed to understand him. More than that, they seemed to love him, in a far more personal way than most of the army loved Alexander.

It wasn't the slap and the shaking which still troubled Helenus – pages got beaten; that was the way of things - but the look in Alexander's eyes. It recalled how bitterly the king had wept and lamented after he had killed General Cleitos. Everyone had said Alexander had forgotten about that, but after this evening… and after all, for all Narcissus' dangerous dislike of his King, Alexander was still Helenus' hero; he did not want him to be so unhappy. He drew in a deep breath as Nireus took his hand and kissed it.

"Come back with me," the older boy said firmly, "Hephaestion has gone to see a certain lovely lady this evening; you and I can be alone…"

Feeling his burden lighten, Helenus nodded and followed him.

* * *

Roshanak lay quietly in her bed, her large dark eyes fixed upon her husband's face as he slid from beneath the furs, his pale body seeming to glimmer like moonlight in the shadows. She had come to like his body, strong and compact as it was; the scars upon it revealed his manly courage in spite of his boyish looks and shaved countenance. And she thought he might be growing used to her – he was no more passionate than he had been on their wedding night, but he seemed more at peace in her company than he had been. And it wasn't just his body she had begun to care for - when he smiled at her it was as if the sun was shining upon her and no-one else.

Roshanak had spent a pleasant day with Daena, who had been helping her to read the _Iliad,_ that story her Iskander was so fond of. It had surprised her – she had thought it would be all about barbarian Greeks gloriously slaying Persians, yet it seemed to her that the Trojan Hector was just as much the hero as Achilles, the one Iskander – Alex–xander, seemed to idolize. Daena kept trying to turn Roshanak's attention to Achilles, but her heart had been stolen by King Priam's eldest son, handsome, brave, kind and so loving to his wife and son. Her love for him was equalled only by her love for his beautiful Andromache. When Daena had reluctantly told her of her fate - how, after the fall of Troy, she had been captured by the rather repulsive sounding son of Achilles and forced to become his mistress, Roshanak had found common ground with her; she had rejoiced to learn that Andromache had finally been freed to marry Hector's younger brother Helenus and become Queen of the Mollossians, even if the son who inherited the throne was the child of Neoptolemus.

If anything had troubled Roshanak today, it was that Daena had seemed a little unsettled when Roshanak's maid Armati had entered the room in the afternoon to dress Roshanak's hair – the interpreter had sent her away and insisted on doing it herself. Not that she hadn't done it beautifully, and had such gentle, motherly hands, but it was strange all the same. Roshanak had never been particularly fond of Armati; she was a bit too saucy and a bit too free in her comings and goings. But surely that was not Daena's concern? The last thing Roshanak wanted was to lose her new friend because her father got it into his mind that the woman was giving herself airs and thinking herself mistress of Roshanak's household.

Now as she watched her husband reaching for his robes, she knew that she did not want him to leave her yet. It was a cold night and his body was extraordinarily hot; she yearned to share its heat beneath the furs, to have him hold her close, even just for a little longer. "Iskander…" she called, too nervous to say the name the way Daena had told her to. Suddenly he turned and his strange grey eyes fixed on hers. There was loneliness in those eyes; it saddened her, overcoming her fear. "Come to me, Iskander," she said, pulling back the furs not to show him her naked body, only to welcome him. "The… night… it is… _cold…"_

Slowly Alexander came and sat down on the bed, gazing down at her in silence. No, he was not happy. Perhaps that was none of her business, but she wanted to understand. Hadn't Andromache understood her worried Hector? Roshanak imagined how she must have comforted him each night he returned from battle, bloodied and weary and low in spirit. Perhaps Alexander would resent her interference; perhaps her family would be angry if he complained to them of her presumptuousness. But in spite of all of it, she felt she had to try.

"Iskander – Alex–xander… my husband…" she took his hand, finding it unsteady but keeping her tone level, "I think you are… not happy?" Wordlessly Alexander touched her face with his fingertips, then shook his head. "Is it… I?" She put a hand to her breast to indicate herself, in case her Greek was failing her. He shook his head. "Is… is… it…" she hesitated, ready for him to strike out at her for her impudence. "Is it… he? Is it…" she struggled with the name. "Eph-aes-tion? Is he… unkind to you?" That was not what she had wanted to say; in Persian or her own language it would have been easy. Has he been disloyal? Is he rebellious? Is he angry about your marriage? She still did not know what to make of Hephaestion and his role in Alexander's life, but her father seemed to grow irritable whenever his name was mentioned.

Alexander merely shook his head once more, murmuring something she did not understand. Then to her astonishment he burst into tears.

As easily as if he had been one of her younger brothers or sisters, Roshanak gathered Alexander into her arms and drew the furs around them both. She did not question or comment; she merely held him close, stroking him and singing to him for the remainder of the night. This was one moment she and her husband alone would share; not even Daena would hear about it.

* * *

Helenus scampered back through the corridors to Alexander's rooms, as quick and light on his feet as a fox. The sound of Hephaestion's return had woken him and forced him to slip from Nireus' arms; technically he was off duty, but he did not much want to find that Alexander had been looking for him and was now in a thundering temper. That would certainly ruin what had been such a happy evening – Nireus had made love to him as soon as they were alone, only questioning him later about what was troubling him. By then, warm and sated, Helenus could not help but tell him about what had happened with Alexander and Nireus had promised no trouble would come to him over it. After that they had got themselves some food and gone to join Hylas, a boy who had been a friend of Helenus since before they had left Macedon, and the three of them had shared watered wine, chatted and played at knucklebones. Finally Nireus had pulled Helenus away back to his bed. It wasn't until he had been dressing to leave that he had caught sight of the note Nireus had given him.

Now he withdrew it from his belt and looked at it thoughtfully. It wasn't sealed.

He frowned and tucked it back again.

TBC


	8. Chapter 7

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 7: **As he plans his festival, Hephaestion wonders if it's time to confront Alexander at last. But Thais offers some good advice and the pair begin to grow closer. Meanwhile, Bagoas moves house…

**NOTES: **Sorry I've been slow to respond to emails and reviews lately, everything is being read and treasured but until my internet is fixed my time on line is limited! For now, I want to thank everyone once again for the kind response this has received – I'm sure you'll all agree this isn't my usual thing so I'm still uncertain about it. If anyone does have questions or anything else, please feel free to mention in the reviews or email me – I promise I'll catch up!

Alexander and Hephaestion aren't together much in this chapter but I hope I've made it clear the Golden One is never far from Hephaestion's thoughts. And yes, apologies for all the intriguing and backstabbing in this story – this Hephaestion has his roots firmly in _The Other Half!!_

* * *

"Admetus is a good lad," Eudaemon commented to Hephaestion as he gratefully reclined on the couch he was offered, wincing as he stretched out his wounded leg. "You've trained him well; he's tireless… and of course utterly devoted to you," he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

Hephaestion snorted dismissively. "One of my father's tricks," he joked, "first make them fall in love with you, then _don't _take them to bed. They lose just a little respect for you when they see you sweating and grunting in the throes of passion, even more when they realise you're too old to keep up with them all night!"

Eudaemon laughed delightedly. Hephaestion knew the men rarely expected such bawdy humour from him, but it sometimes proved a great release. "Any thoughts on which play we should stage, Hephaestion? Does the king have a favourite?"

Hephaestion frowned. He had always rather turned his nose up at comedies, thinking them vulgar and missing the noble heroes and heroines of tragedy. "I'll give it some thought…" He frowned. "About the banquet Amyntas is planning. I was thinking perhaps we should make it a proper Macedonian drinking affair." He saw the flicker pass over Eudaemon's face and acknowledged it with a sympathetic smile. "Bad memories haunt us all, Eudaemon, but we can't let them take us over. I was thinking we could lay… certain matters… to rest, with proper libations to Dionysus, a proper sacrifice, a feast and so on… not a full Dionysia of course, but just something where Macedonian ways dominate."

Eudaemon nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're right. Now, as to contestants for the games…"

Hephaestion allowed himself to get temporarily lost in Eudaemon's plans, but soon enough his mind was recalled to Alexander. He was more worried about him than he had been after they had gone riding. Nireus and Hyacinthus had both brought disturbing reports of his tempestuous moods and it was obvious he was not sleeping properly. But he had still not let Hephaestion spend the night with him in what seemed too long. Hephaestion knew it was not about sex; increasingly he was sure it was something to do with the nights themselves.

He was beginning to feel stupid, waiting around for Alexander to come to him, to throw his arms about his neck and cry upon his breast. He was Alexander's beloved but he was also his Companion, part of his Bodyguard, responsible for his life, his safety, his health. He knew the other members of that elite group that made up the bodyguard were watching him carefully; part of his reason for involving Leonatus in the festival plans was to study his friend's behaviour, to gauge the mood of the Bodyguard. They usually presented a unified force, trusting and caring for one another; but did they now think Hephaestion was letting Alexander down? Perhaps, indeed, they thought him too caught up with his new interest in Thais to care about Alexander, that marriage and women had separated the lovers after all. Well if they believed that they were fools. But if they _did_ believe he had given up on Alexander…

Alexander had to become Alexander again. If he could do that before this festival took place, it might be a rebirth for all of them.

He had to talk to him. The old Hephaestion, the younger, more impetuous Hephaestion he was trying to reclaim, would never have waited this long. He had to confront him. It had all gone on long enough.

* * *

Leaving his new servants to bring his things to his new room, Bagoas sank lazily into a chair and allowed his thoughts to wander. This was what he had always dreamed of – the spoiled life of a favoured concubine. Of course he would still be at Alexander's beck and call, whenever the king wished him to entertain him, but there would be no more arguing with Macedonian servants, no more scrapping with Alexander's pages, no more worrying about being dumped in the harem at Susa or passed off to some satrap or favoured barbarian General with a new taste for eunuchs. If Bagoas was careful, if he was frugal with Alexander's generous gifts and set money and other valuable articles aside and managed his new little household carefully, if he did not become too greedy or let himself be influenced by the scheming of others – there had never been anything wrong with taking a few small bribes to bring some person, or some issue to the king's attention, but one should not take too many risks - he would be more than ready for any downturn in his fortunes.

Alexander had not sent for him since his marriage – that might be natural enough, but Bagoas sensed a change in him of late and had begun to worry it might be the end of their involvement. Since he had joined Alexander's court he had tried to rebuild his connections, his friends and allies, but being constantly on the move, with so many being left behind and the various rebellions and accusations of treason, it had not been easy. Now, at last, he might be ready for whatever followed. Foolish barbarian Greeks, placing their fate in the hands of their capricious gods – he had been taught that one's "luck" came from how one chose to live, from taking a good path or a bad one.

At last he let his thoughts wander to Ara. Might there be hope for them after all? For once he actually thought he might not mind being left behind by Alexander, if being left behind meant being left in Oxyartes' court. Even better, however, for Oxyartes to bring Ara with him if he followed Alexander east…

"Bagoas…" The soft voice awoke him from his thoughts, the timidity with which his name was spoken so uncharacteristic that he was a little taken aback. He looked up into the large green eyes of the Page called Helenus and noted the blush on his fair cheeks.

Bagoas had never learned to trust these boys much, but this time he decided on a soft approach. He favoured the boy with one of his best smiles. "Yes?"

"This is for you," Helenus said softly, glancing over his shoulder as nervously as if he was passing on royal secrets as he pressed a note into Bagoas' hand, then dashed away before the eunuch could argue with him. Bagoas gazed with narrowed eyes in the direction he had gone, then looked down slowly at the note, his heart beginning to beat very quickly in his slender chest. Just when he had thought thinks were going perfectly…

With a heavy sigh he mastered himself and opened the note. He did not recognise the hand, but he knew who it was from. Silently he carried it over to one of the lamps, dipping the corner into the flame until it caught, then dropped it into the silver tray nearby and watched it burn.

* * *

She could tell he was agitated, troubled by something. It was not her place to ask him what it was. With Ptolemy it might be different – they had known each other that well, and Ptolemy never underestimated her knowledge of Alexander, of the Court, even of the army. But it would not do to appear too clever in front of Hephaestion; not yet. So she kept her tone and her manner light, had food and wine at his disposal without prompting him to take any, kept the entertainment down to one discreetly placed kithara player. She did not follow him as he rose from their couch to pace the room; she did not even follow him with her eyes. Instead she played absently with the hem of her diaphanous mantle and waited.

Hephaestion paused when he saw the scrolls discarded with apparent carelessness upon an ornately carved table, bending to read their titles. Thais liked to read, and indeed needed to be au fait with the latest tragedies, comedies, poetry and philosophical works just to be ready to debate any subject her guests might choose. It had been less important with Ptolemy, but with Hephaestion she still needed ways to start their conversations, at least until he was more at his ease in her company and had learned to trust her.

"You favour Euripides, I see," he murmured. "Especially his works centring around women… I hear he's been accused of giving women masculine qualities of courage and intelligence…"

"Surely the women he portrays speak for themselves…?" Thais responded airily, still plucking at her mantle, "Andromache, for instance, would surely have much to say for herself, were she to join us this evening? Or poor, suffering Hecuba?"

Hephaestion shrugged, still looking down at the table. "It's true, even I would find it hard to find fault with the virtue of either woman… but what of Helen? Even Euripides, in _The Trojan Women_ has Hecuba warn Menelaus against her great cunning and treachery! And gives Helen the most unconvincing arguments for her conduct… blaming it all on Aphrodite!"

"Then you don't believe it was the work of the goddess of love?" Thais asked, "that she had no hand in Helen's ruin? You don't believe in the Judgement of Paris?"

"When Helen told her tale, Paris was long dead," Hephaestion retorted dismissively, "who else was left to prove her story?"

"But perhaps _she_ believed it – if Paris told her of it when he visited Sparta? Perhaps she felt she had to place her faith in Aphrodite?"

"A fine excuse," Hephaestion laughed.

"Homer seemed to accept it… he treated Helen with great kindness in his works… he saw her as a woman who genuinely loved her husband, bewitched against her will…"

Hephaestion turned towards her then, his dark eyes suddenly very distant. "Homer had great compassion, I believe, for all those whose stories he told."

Thais watched him, judging his mood, deciding it was not yet time to press him. "And then Euripides seems to have had a change of heart, doesn't he?" she continued effortlessly, "in _Helen_ he absolves the poor Spartan Queen of all blame…"

"The Phantom Helen!" Hephaestion chuckled. "Helen never went to Troy at all, but was held prisoner in Egypt! I have to admit I found it hard to believe…"

"So you can find no compassion for that unhappy woman?"

"Can _you?_"

"Certainly. If I am honest, I think she made a foolish mistake – as Hecuba said, she was bewitched not by Aphrodite but by Paris' Trojan finery… and we all know how strong a spell such Persian luxury casts…" she glanced meaningfully about the room. "Her head was turned, but she quickly regretted it. By the time she was in Troy she knew she was wrong, but, in the end, she was only a woman, frightened and ashamed of her own stupidity. I think Menelaus understood her," she added after a moment, "I think he understood her frailty and loved her anyway."

"You don't think," Hephaestion suggested in a gentler, more playful tone, coming to sit beside her at last, "that he was merely ensnared by her beauty?"

"Actually I think perhaps he loved her in spite of it."

"Now you're outthinking a man," Hephaestion sighed, leaning in to kiss her, "and that will never do…"

The kiss deepened. It was not as Thais would have planned it, but if it was what he wanted, it was not her place to argue. She let him draw her into his arms, let her mantle fall away, let his hands caress her white arms and the curve of her breasts. Then all at once his fingers dug sharply into her flesh and he pulled her back, staring hard into her eyes, his own fierce with a strange mixture of anger and despair.

"It's no good," she heard him snarl, still gripping her hard, "it's no good! I can't hide from what I have to do! This is a mistake, this night is a mistake, I must…"

"Whatever you must do," she cut in gently, ignoring the pain, "surely you can do it in the morning? It's very late."

Hephaestion slowly let her go. "Perhaps." He accepted the wine she poured for him, gulping it down and holding out his cup to be refilled. She watched him warily, but he did not empty the second cup, only stared down into it. At last she reached out to stroke his hair. "There is a duty I must perform," he said at length, breathing a heavy sigh. "I must… launch an attack, to end a siege. If I don't, the inhabitants of the city under siege will carry on suffering until… until it is too late. I thought I could wait it out, until… until the city dwellers ended the siege themselves… but they haven't yet and…"

"And you think its your duty to end it for them?"

Hephaestion turned to look at her. She wasn't absolutely sure what this was about, but she could manage an educated guess. This was about Alexander. Were she sitting here with Ptolemy, not Hephaestion, she knew what she would say.

"What other way is there?" Hephaestion asked finally, without much enthusiasm.

"You could wait… until the people under siege come to you for help…"

"Wait! Wait even longer!" Hephaestion slammed down his cup onto the table before him, his eyes flashing. With an impatient grunt he jumped to his feet and paced across the room. "How much longer, in the name of Zeus? Until he…" he caught himself at the last minute, shaking his head and running his hands through his hair. "I've been doing too much waiting lately – too much waiting for others to do my thinking! Waiting is for women and servants, not warriors!"

Thais smiled sadly. "But women… and servants… sometimes get results that warriors can't. Paris died for his crime… but Helen was forgiven by her husband and returned to Sparta at his side. Indeed, that tempestuous pair were one of the few to finally reach home intact! Surprise attacks are such unpredictable things… and you wouldn't want to risk hurting the people you so desperately wish to relieve…? Considering that, wouldn't it be better to wait, even until the very last minute?"

"A man must take a stand for those he… for what he believes in," Hephaestion mumbled, but without much conviction. He eyed her thoughtfully. "But… perhaps… not just yet…"

He looked down once again at the scrolls Thais had laid out. "Perhaps you can help me with a little problem," he said in a lighter tone, gathering up the scrolls and carrying them over to her. "A play is to be performed at the upcoming festival… my mind strays too much to tragedy of late, but Alexander loves comedies… would you help me choose one?"

Thais smiled, thinking quickly. "I think I have an ideal one," she declared, beckoning him to sit beside her once more. _"Lysistrata._"

"The one where women withhold their favours so that men will stop making war…?" A slow grin spread across Hephaestion's face. "Alexander told me of it when we were boys… I thought it silly of course… who cares about women, I thought! But then I was consumed with lust for a boy at the time…"

"I can't imagine what boy that was," Thais murmured dryly; "all the same, it seems rather appropriate to our debates on the power of women… why don't we read some of it together…?" She shifted of the couch, slipping gracefully behind Hephaestion to rub his shoulders. "Why not start with the scene where Kinesias comes to plead for sexual favours from his wife Myrrhine…? That always made me laugh…"

She could tell the bawdy humour embarrassed him a little, but it also relaxed him, turning his mind to pleasure and away from confrontations she thought ill advised and sensed he did not want. If she was his now, it was her duty to protect him, even from himself and his rigid male way of valuing action over contemplation. It was nothing less than she would have done for Ptolemy, after all.

* * *

Hephaestion slid noiselessly from Thais' bed – it was a skill he had perfected many years ago, to avoid disturbing Alexander's light and erratic slumbers. His lover had teased him about the way he slipped into the night with the skill of a courtesan, but there had been bitterness amidst the playfulness – Alexander hated to wake and find Hephaestion gone, yet if Hephaestion woke him in the deepest depths of the night, the shadows would haunt Alexander and he would inevitably entreat his friend to stay. Touching, but embarrassing too when Hephaestion would be seen scurrying back to his tent in broad daylight and in full view of the army.

Now he thought he would happily leave Alexander's room at midday, stark naked and accompanied by a full retinue of musicians, if it meant that Alexander had asked him to stay the night before. Unable to resist heaving a deep sigh, Hephaestion was suddenly conscious of eyes upon his back. He turned slowly to find Thais propped up on one elbow, her dark eyes shimmering in the dusky light. "You can stay," she said very softly, "if you'd like to."

"I…" Hephaestion frowned. With her hair long and loose about her slender shoulders, one hand modestly holding the silken sheet to her breasts, and a quiet, solemn expression upon her fine face, she seemed to have shed the affected airs of an experienced hetaera, leaving behind an almost maidenly tenderness, as if the chaste moonlight had restored her innocence to her for a few fleeting moments. "I _would_ like to," he replied honestly, "but I don't think I can…" He looked down at his discarded clothes, then helplessly back at Thais.

No, he did not want to leave. Nor was it really the thought of more sexual pleasure that made him linger; it was more realisation in these last few months he had grown tired of sleeping alone – of turning over in his bed and finding nothing to fill his arms but cold silk and lifeless fur. He could return to his room, invite Hylas to share his bed, just to feel the warmth of him and hear his soft breathing. But that small comfort, like Hephaestion's brief but stimulating couplings with the hard, unsentimental, vital young men he had a liking for, was a small compensatory indulgence reserved for times of independent campaigning, when Alexander was out of reach. This was something very different. Yet there was still the matter of his movements being watched… of Alexander's vulnerability…

Thais smiled, but not with calculation, only with a gentle sympathy, patting the space beside her on the bed. "You… know you can talk to me in confidence," she said at last as he came to sit by her, "whatever you say, you can rely upon my discretion."

"Perhaps I've grown too used to keeping my own counsel," Hephaestion admitted, reaching out to touch her bare shoulder.

"Perhaps I have too," she answered unexpectedly. She so rarely seemed to reveal anything of her own truly personal thoughts. For a moment Hephaestion felt awkward, not yet quite ready to acknowledge that she had thoughts and opinions that were completely her own, not part of her repertoire; that she had feelings which could be hurt as well as pride which could be injured. That she could love and trust and – and hate and resent – just as any man, or any other woman could. But then he leaned closer, kissing her cheek, then her lips, and smiled, absurdly touched by being allowed to see her vulnerability. Had Ptolemy been allowed to see her so? If he had, how much more mortifying his apparent disregard for her feelings must have been… she was a hetaera, a professional – yet she had been with Ptolemy at least since they had left Macedon. She was still young; back then, when she had first become Ptolemy's, had she been young enough to trust, even to love?

Once he had carelessly mocked Alexander for his sentimental attitude to women, his willingness to listen to their grievances, even their gossip; he had gone so far as to dismiss Queen Olympias' fears and complaints as the ravings of a misguided, hysterical female. Now Hephaestion found himself wondering if he should have listened more carefully to the women in his own life.

Hephaestion slipped into bed beside Thais, drawing her into his arms. They exchanged a kiss, warm and strangely uncontrolled, as if neither were quite expecting the intensity of the moment they seemed to be sharing. Suddenly Hephaestion was acutely aware of how long it had been since he had enjoyed such deep intimacy with Alexander – even when they were together, these last few months, there appeared to be a barrier between them. It was a measure of how complacent, perhaps how wilfully myopic he had become not only regarding his relationship with Alexander as his commander and as his friend, but regarding Alexander himself, that until the business with Anahid he had not even noticed the barrier was there.

Slowly, with gathering excitement, Hephaestion and Thais came together. Was she realising new or forgotten aspects of her own nature, just as he was? Was she rediscovering herself? Or was she simply allowing herself pleasure, understanding as he was that pleasure could be as fine and as valuable as any high minded abstinence? He had learned to find pleasure in her soft feminine body, in her quick, supple movements, in her delicate touch and gentle patience. She took such trouble over his pleasure… so, once, had Alexander, in scorn of his royal dignity, back in some time and place which now seemed so far away…

When at last they rested he did not pull away from her but instead found himself recalling that time to her, talking of things he had never dreamed of repeating to anyone but Alexander himself. And she not only listened but whispered in response, revealing things she could surely not have done in the brightness of the day. And as they talked, they smiled at one another through the shadows, understanding one another's need and soothing one another's loneliness.

**NEXT CHAPTER: The festival finally begins!!**


	9. Chapter 8

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 8: **The Festival Begins! Hephaestion goes shopping with a rather odd assortment of friends, while the Love Route makes some progress…

**NOTES: **Some of you love a devious Hephaestion, but I know others are finding him a bit unsympathetic - but you'll (hopefully!) see a gentler side of him in the next couple of chapters! As a little reference, Iris was the goddess of the rainbow; she acted as a messanger for the gods and left a multi-coloured trail as she travelled across the sky.

* * *

The day of the festival began well. The weather was fine and the mood of the army seemed high. Alexander gave a day's leave to as many as could be safely spared, offering small gifts of money to spend at the bazaar. When Hephaestion arrived to greet him he was surrounded by Companions, guests and servants all ready to join his retinue as he rode over to the principle town in state. "Hephaestion," Alexander had greeted him, clasping his hands and giving him a formal but tender kiss. His eyes were bright, his expression relaxed. Only the faint tremble in his hands, the slightest shadows under his eyes betrayed him. Anxiety struggled with pride as Hephaestion watched him, knowing the effort Alexander was making, and knowing he was making it not just for his men or his empire or even for Eudaemon, but for Hephaestion himself. 

En route they were joined by Amyntas, satrap of Bactria. He must have regarded his appointment as a mixed blessing – on the one hand, it was a much bigger increase in rank than it would have been for Cleitos, and it demonstrated Alexander's faith in his abilities, but the shadow of the murdered commander hung darkly over the post. Like Eudaemon he seemed to be trying to make the best of it – his dress was the same mixture of Macedonian and Persian that Alexander favoured; his retinue another mixture of the same. Hephaestion even spotted a eunuch or two among them. He had always stuck Hephaestion as a rather unimaginative man, loyal, unsentimental, greedier for promotion and status than wealth – rather like Crateros, Hephaestion thought wryly, without the military brilliance. He would appease Persians, employ eunuchs and drink sherbet because Alexander wanted it, not because he particularly cared for it. But he would do a good job, so long as nothing too untoward happened.

When they reached Eudaemon's town, Alexander greeted the proud governor with a kiss on the lips and a warm embrace, then offered the same to Hephaestion's page Admetus who Eudaemon began praising as soon as he could find a chance. Hephaestion was surprised by the change in the boy since he had assigned him to Eudaemon; normally of a sardonic disposition with a rather mordant sense of humour, Admetus was beaming happily by the governor's side and accepted his King's embrace with considerable pleasure. Hephaestion usually gave these sorts of diplomatic assignments to the more amiable Nireus, or to Hylas if all was needed were a pretty face and an open, friendly nature. But perhaps it was time to think in fresh ways about his staff as well as himself. Alexander accepted Eudaemon's offer of a formal tour for himself and his entourage. Earlier he had already told Hephaestion not to bother coming with them, but to enjoy the bazaar and join him later at the Games; Hephaestion had been relieved on one level, but worried on another – Alexander evidently knew he was watching him and was not in the mood to tolerate it.

In the end, Hephaestion became the leader of the strangest group he had ever led. His pages naturally accompanied him and he had arranged to meet with Thais once the formalities were over, but he found himself joined by Leonatus and his current mistress Iris, a beautiful, voluptuous girl with light brown skin and flashing dark eyes whose silk dress was appropriately coloured like a rainbow. Leonatus himself was planning to compete in the wrestling but had also put forward his protégée, Hephaestion's page Iason.

Hephaestion watched the groups as they perused the stalls. Nireus had his beloved Helenus tucked in one arm – and little Hylas under the other. He doubted anything odd was going on there; the true friendship seemed to be between Hylas and Helenus. But then there was Iason, apparently lover of Admetus and beloved, on and off, of Leonatus, quite happily chatting to Iris. How they worked it all out was beyond Hephaestion. He concentrated on shopping, and on Thais.

Shopping for a woman was so much easier than shopping for Alexander – how could one find gifts for the man who had the world at his feet, yet seemed to enjoy giving things away more than receiving them? He knew she was taking advantage of his inexperience and his good mood – all she had to do was touch something and he would offer to buy it for her. He bought her incense, silk, spices and pottery; then selected more silk and gold jewellery to send home to his mother and sisters and a Persian history translated into Greek for his father. Amused by seeing the typical Macedonian chiton cut in decadent Persian silk, he bought one each for the pages with beautifully plaited filets to match and boxes of pastries drenched in rose and orange flower water. He even bought a richly illustrated volume on Persian wrestling techniques for Leonatus and a necklace of multi-coloured gems for Iris.

Hephaestion's attention was caught by a stall decked with black gems cut in all sorts of shapes and fashioned into all sorts of jewellery. He turned questioningly to the guide he had brought with him, who spoke to the stall keeper. "Obsidian, my lord," the guide translated, "created in the forge of the fire-god."

"A gift from Hephaestus," Thais murmured at his shoulder, "how appropriate."

Hephaestion did not answer. He picked up a beautiful gold armlet set with the curious gleaming black gems and studied it, suddenly feeling a shadow settling over him. "A fine gift," he heard Thais continue, "for a dear friend…"

He turned to look at her, seeing sympathy in her expression mixed with just a little regret. He wanted to say something to her, to try to explain, but then he dismissed the urge. He had been listening to her too much – surely no woman could truly appreciate the love two men could share? But then he looked deeper into her eyes, so dark they were nearly as black as the obsidian itself, and wondered. As she moved away to talk to Iris and admire the necklace Hephaestion had bought her, he purchased the armlet and something else as well.

So distracted was he with his purchases that he did not notice the strategic manoeuvre being operated around him until he was well and truly caught. Iason had loudly declared a craving for sherbet, that Persian mix of fruit juice chilled with snow, and the other boys had eagerly followed him to buy some. Hephaestion had noticed them drinking more and more of it, even trying to make it themselves – the younger ones even seemed to prefer it to wine! He had also noticed their increasing preference for local milk puddings flavoured with rose water and spices. Now as he watched them head across the market, he heard them calling to each other not in Macedonian or Greek but actually in Persian, apparently testing one another. He thought suddenly of the men and women left behind in the towns – in a generation or two, would they even remember their Macedonian heritage? Perhaps Alexander was worrying unnecessarily about integrating his conquered peoples – perhaps they would do it for him.

Then Iris suddenly squealed in delight, throwing out her plump dusky arms and exclaiming to Thais that she simply _must_ help her chose a pair of those _adorable _Persian slippers. And suddenly Hephaestion was alone with Leonatus.

He looked patiently down into the other man's pale blue eyes, waiting for him to speak. Leonatus said nothing direct to him about Alexander all morning; he was a straightforward if quick tempered young man, fond of the luxuries and privileges their conquests brought and very conscious of his rank as a blood relation to Alexander, with a typically large Macedonian ego, but he was never particularly jealous or malicious when it came to Hephaestion and over the years they had learned to like and trust one another. As Alexander had gradually but determinedly replaced the old _somatophylax_ – his Bodyguard, closer to him than any other group in the army – with his carefully picked friends, a bond had grown amongst the seven of them. This meant they cared for one another – but it also gave them freedom to speak their minds.

Once in a while Hephaestion had caught Leonatus watching him, however – watching Thais too. Apparently it was now time for the questions.

In fairness, Leonatus didn't seem to relish the task; he ran a hand uncomfortably through his sandy hair as he finally spoke. "I'm not as good at pissing about with words as you are Hephaestion," he said with his usual bluntness, "so I'll just get down to it. You and Alexander – are you still at it?"

"At what, Leonatus?" Hephaestion asked softly, not quite ready to make it easy for him.

"You know what I mean, son of Amyntor," Leonatus growled, faint colour creeping into his round cheeks. For a moment the family resemblance between him and Alexander became quite clear. "Are you still going to his bed?"

"Is that any of your business?"

"It's my business when it concerns Alexander, and you know it. Come on, Hephaestion," he added with a weary sigh, "all at once you've taken up with a woman – and not just any woman! Thais, by all the gods! You know ordinarily I wouldn't care if you were going to bed with Bucephalus…"

"How liberal of you."

"…but any fool can see Alexander…" Leonatus cleared his throat and leaned closer. "He's not right, Hephaestion. Is he? All that crap they told him after Cleitos – he didn't believe it, did he?"

Hephaestion sighed in surrender. "No, I don't think he did. Nothing has altered between Alexander and me, Leonatus," he added, "I love him – and want him – as much as I did back in Mieza."

"Then why aren't you helping him? Are you going to leave it all to that Barbarian wife of his? What can _she _do? By Zeus, Hephaestion, we both know where Alexander's preferences really lie – help him!"

"I'm trying to," Hephaestion insisted in a sharp whisper, "I swear by Athene, I'm trying my best! But he needs time!" He caught hold of Leonatus arm, looked deep into his eyes. "I know it doesn't sound right… believe me, it goes against everything I've been trained to understand, but we have to wait. We have to _wait."_

Leonatus breathed out heavily and nodded. For a moment Hephaestion wished the interrogation would continue, so that he could share the burden with someone else who knew Alexander. But this was not the time and Leonatus was not the one. He offered his hand to his companion and after a moment's hesitation the other man squeezed it in a crushing grip.

* * *

"I don't know about this, Bagoas," Ara sighed as the two of them wandered through the crowded bazaar, "I don't know about any of this…" 

The younger eunuch smiled up at his companion, reaching discreetly to press his hand. "Come, Ara, please relax," he coaxed, "see how many people are here today, how full the bazaar is – we're just two eunuchs, of no interest to anybody, doing some shopping and wasting time! Don't you want to be with me?" he added with a well practiced flutter of his long lashes.

Ara laughed. "Nothing gives me greater pleasure, my love…"

"Then help me choose some new perfume and the best shade of silk for my complexion… now that my status has improved, I must look even better for my King, don't you agree?"

"You look perfect to me this very moment." Ara liked the way Bagoas blushed, but he could not help the frown which returned to his face moments later as they sampled the various perfumes on one of the biggest stalls. "Why should we do anything for him Bagoas? It's his problem, not ours! Why should we bring trouble upon ourselves?"

"What do you think of this one…?" Bagoas proffered his wrist to his friend, ignoring the stallholder's insistence the fragrance was worth its weight in gold, an instant aphrodisiac.

Ara sniffed and shrugged. "Common," he said in Court Persian, smiling sweetly at the stallholder as he did so. "Unworthy of you. But Bagoas…"

"I told you what happened – how he saw us kissing," Bagoas whispered in the same language, "he could have told Alexander about it, but he didn't."

"For his own reasons, no doubt."

"Even so…" They wandered away from the stall to where large bales of beautifully dyed silk lay stacked, guarded by another hopeful merchant. "It _is_ down to your master, isn't it?"

Ara scowled, asking the merchant to spread out a length of silk with a pattern of undulating blue and turquoise waves, holding it up against Bagoas' olive skin. "It wasn't his idea… the first time, the woman acted alone. She's clever and fond of luxuries and quick to see an opportunity; my master found out what she was doing and made use of her. My master doesn't want to get rid of _him_, Bagoas… only to shake him loose of the king. He's heard the stories of the Greeks and their pederasty; he's only afraid there'll be no children, that the king will grow bored with her and the alliance will soon lose its importance…"

Bagoas scoffed delicately. "He might as well try to shake the stars from the heavens! The King clings to that one like he's the source of life itself! Don't you think others have tried? Even his mother! Well she is still in Macedon, and _that one _is still by the king's side. She learned and so will your master. He doesn't want to make an enemy there, Ara, trust me – if he decides your master is making trouble for him, no-one is in a better position to wreck this marriage alliance than he is – and none of us want that."

"But the king is listening to our woman," Ara protested, "he doesn't send her away!"

"Don't trust in that. Don't let your master trust in that. His spirits are low at the moment but he'll turn on her before you know it. This sort of double-dealing doesn't come naturally to him. Your master would be better employed making a friend of that one – the Persians like him because he respects their ways, and if anything happens too the king… he's the one they'd back, and he's the one who would give them their best chance." He looked down at the silks, then pointed to one in a rich dark green shot with gold thread. "That would suit you, Ara… it would bring out the gold in your eyes."

Ara held it up to the light, studying it for a long time. "Very well, Bagoas, you win me over, as you always could… I will point her out to you, but be careful. She's not all she seems. She was once in the royal harem – before your time – and managed to get herself exiled out here for… ah… selling her favours. After that she worked the Greek mercenary camps. She's nothing if not tenacious! Only since the fall of Darius has she crawled out from under her rock…" He smiled grimly. "I can counsel my master but I can't control the woman – and possibly neither can he, if the king still wants to hear what she says. She's too fond of money to give up easily and she wouldn't hesitate to turn on _you_ again if she thinks you're against her – or me, for that matter. Tell _that one_ to be wary too."

"That one will take care of her," Bagoas assured him solemnly.

"And Bagoas…" Ara turned to him then, unashamedly clasping his hands. "Don't let _him_ involve you in this any further. If anything should happen to you..." Then his expression softened and his eyes brightened. "Come, let's share some _sharbat_ and talk of old times. Believe it or not, my master might not approve of _that one_ but he approves of _you;_ he has even told me to… ah…" Ara couldn't help laughing; he had struggled not to laugh when Oxyartes had made the suggestion. "To make friends with you so you can pass me information on the king…"

"Now I am truly confused," Bagoas sighed. "Very soon we will all be spying on each other!"

"Yes, isn't it wonderful?" Ara cried happily, "it's just like in the days of the Great King!"

Bagoas stifled a giggle behind his hand. "In any event it will be good to have an excuse to see you; if the king asks, I can always tell him I'm using you to spy on your master…" Taking Ara's arm as they headed to one of the tents selling refreshments, he seemed to be considering something at length. Finally he spoke once more. "Ara… tell your master the best way for his daughter to keep her husband's attention is to learn to talk to him. Tell her to concentrate on her Greek and try to… to be his friend. The closest a woman can get to him is to become his friend."

"Friend?" Ara cried, "a woman? That doesn't sound very Greek, my love!"

Bagoas shrugged. "The only other woman who has managed to keep his attention was the lady Barsine, and it seemed to me it was because he had known her in Macedon and she understood his ways. She could speak Greek and was able to be a friend to him, to listen to him talk. He likes – no, he _loves_ to talk. More than he loves to make love!"

"What a strange creature he is," Ara mused. "What time is he expecting you back?"

"He has excused me from my usual duties from now on… I do not have to organize his retinue or see to his dress – _that one_ has it close in hand today," Bagoas admitted with a lopsided boy's smile, one he never used at Court and quite certainly never showed Alexander. It filled Ara's heart with warmth and made him long to be alone with him. "But he has invited me to sit with his party during the games and the play… I will be needed to translate for the Persian guests. Of course, that is not for a few hours yet…" They stopped and looked at one another.

"Come," Ara said softly, "I know somewhere we can go where there are sweeter treats to be shared than _sharbat_…"

TBC


	10. Chapter 9

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 9: **As the festival continues, Thais, Hephaestion, Ptolemy and Alexander all speculate on the recent turn of events, while Anahid wins herself an admirer and Laomedon mourns his loss…

**NOTES: **I think this is probably my favourite chapter, and certainly one I looked forward to writing. Laomedon's story was swiped directly from **Curtius**' blow-by-blow account of Erigyius' duel; the quote is genuine, though whether Erigyius really said anything so heroic we'll probably never know! (I used the Penguin Classics translation – no copyright infringement intended!) He apparently did carry Satibarzanes' head on his spear as he rode back to Alexander, though the head-tossing bit is my own invention. Laomedon is credited with speaking a Persian language, and it could well have been him, not Leonatus, who Alexander sent to comfort the Persian Royal Family; all in all I tend to think of him as a relatively learned, gentle soul, but who knows…?

Castor and Polydeuces (Pollox) were twin brothers of Helen of Troy. Some say they were hatched out of the same swan's egg as she was - in some accounts both are immortal (sons of Zeus and Leda); in others Castor is mortal.

* * *

The games were a great success. Having spent the morning garbed in his sumptuous Persian robes, Alexander had changed into simple Greek dress for the occasion, his only ornament the laurel wreath crowning his golden hair. Hephaestion himself had taken control of the King's wardrobe for the day; Alexander had mocked him, calling him his new eunuch and offering to have him gelded if he decided he wanted the role permanently, but Hephaestion could see he was pleased by the attention and the thoughtfulness behind it. Without either plush Persian silk and brocade or Macedonian jewellery, Alexander looked boyish, at once vulnerable and temptingly attractive. When he entered to sit between grizzled, hard muscled Eudaemon and stately, aquiline Amyntas, surrounded by the Governors of his towns and his Royal Bodyguard, the effect was perfectly enhanced. Admittedly when Alexander passed him by Hephaestion had to fight the urge to pull him down into his lap and smoother him in kisses as he had loved to do when they were boys, but the intended result seemed to be achieved – under all the glamour and glory, Alexander was still the army's Golden Boy.

The garrisons of each of the six towns put forward competitors along with several divisions of the main army, both Macedonian and Persian. Leonatus, to nobody's surprise, beat all army competitors at wrestling and then, to the glee of the Macedonians, went on to soundly thrash Oxyartes' own champion. Alexander had been repeatedly asked to compete in the chariot races – he had firmly declined, but Hephaestion saw the wistfulness in his gaze when the races began. In then end it was Nireus' uncle Thanatos who won – when he swaggered up to be congratulated by the King, he brazenly declared that the only reward he wanted was a night of passion with Alexander's page Helenus. To the astonishment of the company, his actual reward was a stinging slap across the face from the boy in question, who had stepped forward with Nireus to congratulate the Champion. Hephaestion had pushed through, determined to reprimand the boy, but Alexander simply added another gold piece to the victor's purse and told him that Macedonian justice was swift as ever.

Though the play had been something Hephaestion had least looked forward to, it turned out to be one of the happiest times of the day. Alexander caught at his arm as they moved to take their seats, pulling him down beside him and letting their companions see to themselves. Hephaestion couldn't help a childish rush of pleasure at the way Alexander sat so close that his thigh pressed invitingly against Hephaestion's and discreetly adjusted his cloak so that it concealed their tightly clasped hands.

Having read the play through with Thais, Hephaestion had to admit it was clever as well as funny, but it was Alexander's laughter that really delighted him. Taking more interest in the people around him than those on the stage, Hephaestion caught the whisper of feminine voices and realised that Roxana's interpreter was valiantly trying to translate the bawdy jokes for Roxana. Apparently, judging from the giggles and blushes emanating from Alexander's bride, she was having a reasonable amount of success. Bagoas, translating for Oxyartes and his retinue, was having less – the looks on the Persian faces varied from bemusement to distaste.

As Hephaestion turned to look directly at Bagoas, the eunuch nodded very slightly in the direction of the person sitting beside him – that friend of his, who Hephaestion had learned was called Ara. Ara turned his hazel-gold eyes very briefly in Hephaestion's direction, only long enough to acknowledge him, then looked away. Hephaestion had to hide a grin of satisfaction behind his hand. The love-route had almost come full circle. Tonight he would make a private sacrifice to Athene for the health and happiness of his father.

Seeing Alexander's face shiny and flushed with happiness, not alcohol, Hephaestion began to wonder about the wisdom of the Dionysiac element of the evening party. It had been a sudden impulse – Alexander was so superstitious and Hephaestion knew that the breach of hospitality, slaying a friend at a party, haunted him almost as much as the killing itself. But surely another drinking party would sour his lightened mood? As the play continued and the sun began to set, Hephaestion could not help but dream of a different evening; of a night of love for the two of them in the elegant pavilion Eudaemon had arranged to accommodate his illustrious guests. Of shared intimacy at last, when Alexander's mood was softened and his heart warmed. He had once said he slept his deepest sleep in a city Hephaestion had founded, because all of it whispered "Hephaestion" to him, order imposed on chaos. Well, it was too late to change things now.

When the play finally ended and Alexander rose to congratulate the actors and invite them to dinner, Hephaestion glanced over towards Bagoas, who once again nodded fractionally. A moment later, Ara stumbled very slightly and caught at the arm of one of the women attending Roxana. He quickly murmured an apology and went to Oxyartes' side, his face as smooth and still as a tragedy mask. Hephaestion turned away at once. So that was the one… she certainly fitted Hyacinthus' description. Such an unassuming creature too… he wondered if Roxana had any idea. He would settle with her soon, but first he had to make sure she didn't go bleating back to her masters. Just a little more information and he would be quite ready for her.

* * *

Laid out for the banquet to follow, the pavilion was a splendid affair. Thais took her seat on the couch beside Hephaestion, sending elegant smiles in the direction of all who gawped at her and politely ignoring some less than discreet exclamations. She wondered what astonished them more – seeing any woman beside Hephaestion or seeing her with someone other than Ptolemy. It was awkward, but it would have been far more so if she had sat alone. When the king's eyes shifted briefly to her, she changed her smile to a gently respectful one; no apology, no embarrassment – that would make it appear as if she was somehow acknowledging his discomfort with the situation. He smiled back, but she sensed the warmth he managed to put into it belonged to past memories of her, not her present position.

Hephaestion had been tense when they had made their way over, perhaps concerned about the evening to come. He had gone away with Alexander to change after the play was over – presently both had reappeared in Macedonian dress, complete with ornate collars, rings and bracelets and the purple woollen cloaks of the elite. Alexander looked very fine, she had to admit, in a silver-white chiton embroidered with golden ivy leaves. She noticed with a mix of pleasure and slight ruefulness the obsidian armlet glittering darkly about his right bicep. She was being an utter fool of course – she could never expect Hephaestion to even combine her in the same thought as Alexander. He had learned to enjoy what women could offer, but he would never be a true lover of women; he would never be a true lover of anyone, in his heart, but Alexander. Of course she knew that – but it did strike her with the oddest feeling of loneliness.

How long would he want her for? Was there any chance it would last beyond his initial infatuation with female delights? She sensed they could be friends, in spite of all her own denials that such was ever possible, but she should not come to trust in that; she had done so once before. And if he decided to throw her over? She was the mistress of Alexander's right hand – whichever man took her next, it would be a step down.

At any rate, once they were seated Hephaestion seemed to relax. So did Thais, when she saw the arrangements – she had not much cared for the idea of a small-scale Dionysia; in fact she had not cared for drinking-parties in general since she had been blamed for the destruction of Persepolis and had to endure bouts of Persian servants "accidentally" ripping her favourite gowns, spilling her expensive perfume or smashing priceless pottery and Persians of higher rank spitting at her or signing curses behind her back when Ptolemy wasn't looking, whenever they moved into a new territory and word of her identity got around. As if that disastrous episode was really her fault! Men always found ways to blame women for their own wicked excesses! And Hephaestion wondered why she found such sympathy with poor Helen of Sparta!

In fact, they might have been back in Pella; the huge pavilion was awash with dancers, musicians and acrobats; seemingly endless platters of roasted meat and vegetables were being paraded in along with a vast golden mixing-bowl. Earlier, Alexander himself had led libations and the sacrifice of a white bull to Dionysus, the whole ceremony handled with grave correctness. Somehow this seemed to set the tone of the evening – people drank, laughed, boasted, sang and danced, but there was just the slightest element of restraint. Thais looked across the room and saw Amyntas the satrap watching Hephaestion nervously. Hephaestion had told Thais of his original plan for the evening; evidently Amyntas had tried to tone down the original plan while preserving the integrity of the Macedonian flavour, stuffing everyone full of meat and distracting them with entertainment to keep them from their wine. She couldn't blame the poor man – he must have been seeing visions of Cleitos since the idea was put forward.

In the next moment, evidently following her gaze, Hephaestion noticed Amyntas too. Rising slowly from his couch, he approached the satrap purposefully. Thais could have sworn the man turned pale until Hephaestion caught him in a crushing embrace.

Smiling to herself, Thais allowed her eyes to wander across the room – and found herself looking at Ptolemy. He didn't look his best; in fact he looked tired and rather bored. He had never been a great lover of these drinking parties, but Thais had always kept him in good spirits with her flirtatious conversation and her witty remarks on their fellow revellers. Evidently that Anahita's talents did not extend beyond the bedroom…

Thais watched with interest as Ptolemy waved across the room to someone. She resisted the urge to turn her head, waiting until the person came into view. It was Laomedon son of Larichus, as old a friend of Alexander as Ptolemy, one of the youths chosen to mentor the prince. Since the death of his brother Erigyius he had seemed rather lost, as if half of him was missing. Thais felt the swelling of sadness in her breast as she remembered how the brothers had always sat together at parties, with or without the company of women or comely boys. It was kind of Ptolemy to invite him to join him – but then, she thought with some acidity, Ptolemy probably needed someone to translate the conversation of his young mistress. She watched Laomedon greet the girl with gracious Persian formality; noticed that Ptolemy seemed to have no qualms about letting his friend sit next to her and begin to talk to her in his fluent Persian. Had it been Thais sharing his couch, Ptolemy would never have been so liberal.

Embarrassed by the amount of satisfaction that gave her, Thais was about to look away when Ptolemy looked straight in her direction. She smiled at him politely, but the moment was long and awkward, so much so that Thais started slightly when Hephaestion's arm snaked absently around her waist and he leaned close to whisper in her ear. She leaned in to him, grateful for the warmth, and was gratified to see the sharp flash of jealousy in Ptolemy's eyes.

* * *

It was going to be a long evening; Ptolemy was certain of it. At least Anahita seemed to be enjoying herself – apparently the girl had lots to say to someone who could understand her; she and Laomedon struck up such a steady conversation in Persian that Ptolemy had begun to feel like an interloper. Anahita's Greek was sadly limited to praising his sexual prowess and godlike stature – pleasant enough, if it wasn't for the fact she had almost certainly been taught the phrases to please Alexander. It was surely only by the mercy of Zeus himself that she hadn't tried complimenting him on his golden hair and cloudy grey eyes. Anahita was certainly highly skilled in the bedroom; she was tireless, sweet natured and attentive to his comfort and sang with the seductive beauty of a siren. But he couldn't _talk _to her! And even if he could, how could he confide his troubles, his deepest fears, his ambitions and dreams in a woman who might suddenly get it into her barbarian head to report everything he said to Alexander?

Coldness had passed through him when the thought first occurred – was that why Alexander had given him the girl? Surely not… when had Ptolemy ever shown disloyalty? Were things being said behind his back? Now, stealing another glance towards Thais, he wondered just what mutinous words _she_ might be whispering into Hephaestion's suspicious young ear. Hephaestion could be terrifyingly vindictive where Alexander was concerned – he had assisted in Philotas' torture like an avenging fury; even at the execution he had looked as though he had wanted to throw the javelin himself, so coldly vengeful was the look in those dark eyes. Love could be a terrifying thing…

Ptolemy's head was aching. The loud music, the thumping of dancing feet and the shouts of the acrobats always gave him a headache. If only Thais was here to rub his temples and lighten his mood with her witty talk…

He had been honoured when Alexander had presented the Armenioi concubine to him, pleased that he was being singled out for such a favour. Anahita was an exotic delight, a new and tantalising pleasure to be experienced, a prize for others to envy. He knew some of the others mocked him for his apparent devotion to one woman – even, in this society which thought so much of the love between men, of his devotion to women in general. Perhaps he had not handled the matter as tactfully as he could have done – perhaps he could have been more accommodating to Thais… but wasn't that just the sort of "feminine" thinking men would deride him for? They weren't supposed to ask women their feelings on such matters, especially hetaerae… besides, surely Alexander would have been insulted if Ptolemy had thanked him for his gift and then shoved her to the back of his household, untouched and forgotten?

Trying to force his mind away from the subject, Ptolemy's eyes wandered towards Alexander. The King moved gracefully about the room – a slender, almost diminutive figure at first sight, but one who somehow managed to fill the room with the radiant force of his personality; to cast brightness upon those he honoured with his company, to leave those he passed by in shadow. He was dutiful tonight, spending time with the garrison commanders and the other men who would be remaining behind. His Sogdian in-laws were nowhere to be seen; indeed the whole affair had a distinctly Macedonian feel. What, Ptolemy could not help wondering, was Alexander making of his Hephaestion's sudden interest in Thais? Perhaps he had simply discovered the charm of women at last, and Hephaestion, seeing the writing on the wall, had quickly found one of his own to save face. It was the simplest explanation, yet Ptolemy was unconvinced. The others were all talking avidly about it of course, but for once Ptolemy was not included in their gossiping. Instead he was one of their subjects…

Ptolemy heaved a deep sigh as he watched Anahita and Laomedon chattering away like old friends. It must be rather boring for her, he considered absently, having no-one to talk to. Another bout of womanish sentiment on his part, he supposed, but he found he didn't really care. He _did_ like the company of women – by all the gods, he liked it more than the company of men. He might not be as extravagant in his worship of them as Harpalos, who treated each woman he fell for like an earthly goddess, be it the market whores he had consorted with as a boy or the expensive hetaerae of later years. But he _liked _them. They had their own strange way of looking at things, a totally different attitude to the world around them, and sometimes they could find answers in a moment to questions that might plague a man for years. And they weren't nearly as obsessed with beauty. Ptolemy didn't care much about his looks one way or other – he had always despised the way youths used their pretty faces and supple young bodies to push their way up the ranks, and he automatically distrusted any good-looking young man who obtained a rank beyond his years. But women genuinely seemed to see beyond appearances – they flocked to men who were loyal and kind, who were generous and amusing, not just fine to look at…

The sound of Thais' musical laughter broke into his thoughts. She was lightly flirting with two of Hephaestion's cavalry officers, who had come over, they said, to know what wiles she had used to seduce their chaste commander. Hephaestion, reclining lazily, watched the discussion with an affable smile. All very amusing, but had it been Ptolemy beside her those brazen young upstarts wouldn't have been allowed within spear-throwing distance of her.

Blast that bloody Athenian! Ptolemy had always considered himself far above the petty jealousies of the other Companions; he was that much older than Alexander and as such had avoided the rivalries and romantic intrigues of Mieza. He had always told himself Alexander's lasting infatuation with Hephaestion was not his concern. While others complained about the stranglehold he had on the prince's attention, Ptolemy had laughed condescendingly. Philip had chosen Ptolemy for Alexander, just as he had chosen Harpalos, Nearchos and the sons of Larichus; his status was assured, he did not need to bite and snarl with the wolf-pack to keep his place. But now, watching Hephaestion with Thais, Ptolemy suddenly understood how vexing, how positively insufferable Hephaestion's presence could be. The bastard was just a little _too_ richly endowed by the gods – handsome, charming, intelligent and gifted; many secretly waited for him to finally fall on his face but they might die waiting. What was it with him? He had not only bagged the prince and kept the king, but now he had managed to win the most beautiful and coveted woman between here and Macedon! And the smug son of a whore knew it too, for all his feigned nonchalance. Lover of men he might have been up until now, but he was as susceptible to Thais' charms as any man and he knew very well what a prize he had won.

Ptolemy tried to dismiss the relationship as he watched them – really, he should admire Thais for going after the best placed man in the army; he certainly wasn't surprised that she had succeeded in getting him. But they seemed just a little too comfortable together. Ptolemy knew Thais well enough to know when she was masking boredom or distaste, and he didn't see it now. She was enjoying herself! With that – that boy-lover! That stuck up Southern poseur! The very thought of it made his pure, proud, Macedonian blood run dangerously hot. Unable to stop himself, he found his mind conjuring visions of getting Hephaestion alone and teaching him just how many parts of his body a man could lose before he had the good fortune to die. Only the pain as his fingernails dug deep enough to penetrate into his calloused palms made Ptolemy unclench his fists and catch his breath. He glanced about, hoping no-one had witnessed his boiling attack of jealousy, still clinging hopelessly to what was left of his pride.

Pride was a dangerous thing. One could choke on pride – how many stories were there of men who had paid dearly for it? Ptolemy had always considered himself realistic and he needed to face reality now. He _had_ handled the situation between Anahid and Thais badly. He had sacrificed Thais to his own greed. The first question was, what did he want now? The answer to that was simple. He wanted her back. He missed her – and he began to suspect he would never stop missing her, that would never be another woman like her for him. The second question was more difficult. What should he do about it? He couldn't force her back; he couldn't plead with her; he couldn't demand Hephaestion give her up. He certainly couldn't complain to Alexander about it. And if Alexander supported Hephaestion's involvement with her, how could Ptolemy interfere with it?

Afterwards Ptolemy was sure it was the compassion of some god which made him glance towards Alexander at that very second. The King was staring past him towards Hephaestion and Thais. His eyes were a little bleary with drink, but the displeasure flickering in them was unmistakable. Then they settled upon Ptolemy, and the two men regarded one another for what seemed a moment without end.

* * *

For Alexander it seemed to be a day of many guises, many memories; many changing and conflicting emotions. His tour of the garrison town had been satisfying; he had particularly liked the mix of Persians, Bactrians, Macedonians and Greeks who appeared at least so far to be coexisting without rancour. He enjoyed the company of Eudaemon and appreciated the effort he had already put in to his duties. He also liked to hear Hephaestion praised repeatedly. Amyntas son of Nicholaus was doing the best job he could and Alexander was grateful to him for accepting the post without either ostentatious ceremony or thinly veiled unease, but the man was just a little too obliging, too eager to both please and impress. He had an answer for everything – a long answer. In a Persian the ingratiating attitude would have been natural. In a Macedonian it was a little embarrassing. Eumenes had accompanied them and Alexander observed the two seemed to like each other. Hardly surprising; they were very similar – efficient, indispensable, reliable and hard working, but at the same time conservative, rather stuffy, devoid of any sense of humour and rather too fond of the contents of their own purses. Alexander doubted Amyntas was corruptible, but he might be regarded by the people under him, especially the soldiers garrisoned in towns like this one, to be unnecessarily miserly. He would have to be watched.

Even as he wandered the town he had reflected on Bactria, a land which had brought him and his armies so many sorrows. There were times he sorely wished someone would discover a way to restore Barsine's father Artabazus to health and youth – if he hadn't felt the need to give up the post of Satrap of Bactria, so much would have been different…

The games had been a real treat, one Alexander accepted without reservation, except to refuse himself the pleasure of competing in the chariot races. The youngsters in particular always delighted him with their youthful energy and enthusiasm, but that in itself recalled haunting memories of Mieza and Pella, of shared games and sports, of innocent laughter and the sweet taste of victory. But the whole event had been organised well and the amount of Macedonians victories, led by his dependable Leonatus, had given the men great joy.

It was only at the play that melancholy had touched Alexander – he had laughed delightedly throughout, even more so for seeing the faint look of distaste upon Hephaestion's features. Suddenly it seemed there was no greater pleasure to be had than to sit beside him and secretly hold his hand as he had done so often during Aristotle's classes. The sexual frustration of the men in the play, in particular the arrival of the Spartans with their unmanageable erections after being so long without the company of their wives, had made him think of the endless delegations he had had to entertain of late and made him laugh the harder. But then a shadow had passed over him, and he had felt guilty for allowing himself so much merriment.

The sacrifices and the proper libations to Dionysus had pleased Alexander – in this, as in the whole day, he saw Hephaestion's hand and felt such love for him at that moment that it was difficult to breathe. By his side, silently and fervently Alexander had prayed for forgiveness and for guidance and for once his demons did not surface to mock his prayers. As always, peace was where Hephaestion was.

Before the party, Hephaestion had taken Alexander aside, apparently fussing over his costume as he had all day. But once the servants and pages were gone, he had produced a beautiful armlet glittering with black Persian obsidian. "It isn't of great value," Hephaestion had leaned close to whisper in his ear, his breath tickling Alexander's neck, "but it is of great beauty… they say it is sacred to the god of the underworld, a symbol of death… and rebirth… that it has qualities of honesty, sincerity and truth… that it protects, allows insight, drives away… obsessions… protects against the touch of evil… keep it close to your skin, and remember that…" Alexander had felt an odd shiver pass through him when Hephaestion had slipped it around his arm and Hephaestion's fingers had brushed his skin. Like some foolish boy in love for the first time, he felt the euphoria of one who had just been told that the boy he loved really did love him back. Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

Now here he was at the evening banquet, well into his cups and touched by an ineffable loneliness. If this was a different, more informal occasion, he would be sharing his couch with Hephaestion and getting comfortably, peaceably drunk, safe in the knowledge that his love would be the one to take him to his bed, to undress him and cool his brow with herbal waters, that Hephaestion would permit this duty to no servant, not even Bagoas, because it was a pleasure to him, and because he knew it sometimes frightened Alexander to wake from his besotted haze and find another face looming over him. If the gods were smiling upon him, he would wake in the morning with Hephaestion asleep beside him. This was not always the case; Hephaestion sometimes tired of Alexander when he was too inebriated to welcome his love and Alexander would have to face the bleary after-effects alone. But he never actually asked Hephaestion to stay on such nights; there had to remain some pleasures no-one must automatically be assured of having, even – or especially – a king.

But now? Would Hephaestion bother anymore? Perhaps on future drinking nights he would hustle Alexander to bed or even hand him over to his servants, impatient to go to Thais for the pleasure Alexander was to drunk to give him.

Alexander irritably dismissed the thought, letting his eyes wander the room. This was not one of those nights. Instead of Hephaestion, he was presently sharing a couch with two very boring garrison commanders who were engaged in seemingly insoluble argument over troop numbers balanced against supplies. One was apparently accusing the other of seconding supplies that were really meant for someone else. It hadn't taken much effort for them to change from soldiers to bureaucrats, Alexander noted caustically. He had stopped listening to them, but they didn't seem to have noticed.

Not far away, Crateros was loudly detailing the strategic errors made by the Persians at the battle of Gaugamela, while his companion, the ever fair-minded Coenus, was arguing the Persian defence. Alexander suddenly longed to join them – perhaps he could, once he had honoured the last of the men he was leaving behind with his company. As he scanned the room for any he had overlooked, his gaze settled upon Laomedon.

He felt a sudden rush of anxiety as he saw his old friend – he had hoped to give him the greatest amount of his time on this evening, but so far he had not been given a chance. It was quite apparent Laomedon did not want to be singled out by being placed by Alexander's couch or called to sit with him at the games or the play; after all, many men had lost brothers, even fathers and sons. But Erigyius had not just been someone's brother.

Alexander was gratified to see Ptolemy call his friend to sit with him and Anahid, though his satisfaction faded as he regarded the Armenioi beauty who had quite innocently caused him so much trouble. All he had wanted was to be rid of her and the nuisance she represented. Hephaestion's idea had been sound – except for the person he had had in mind for the honour of receiving the gift. Now, as Alexander watched Laomedon talking to her with obvious enthusiasm, Alexander felt like pulling out his own hair.

Laomedon! Why in the name of all the gods hadn't he thought of Laomedon? Not only could the man speak fluent Persian and was one of men who took the most interest in Persian customs and habits, he had recently suffered a terrible bereavement – a bereavement that affected Hephaestion as much as it did Alexander. The gift of a lovely, accomplished concubine would not only have given him something new and fresh to focus on – Alexander had heard he had given up all his romantic attachments since Erigyius' death, presumably haunted by the memories they recalled – but would have left Hephaestion with absolutely nothing to complain about! How could he have been so _stupid?_

His eyes shifted involuntarily to Hephaestion and Thais. She was a very beautiful woman; he certainly couldn't fault his lover's taste. Her movements were at once delicate and sensual and she was so perfectly, richly, temptingly feminine, without a wife's encumbrance of having to appear modest and diffident in the company of men. Her slender white hands fluttered like dove's wings as she talked; Alexander saw one of them brush lightly upon Hephaestion's muscular arm and vowed to himself that if she dared to let them stray anywhere near Hephaestion's thighs he would cut her fingers off. What irked him most was how relaxed they looked together, how eagerly they talked in their educated Greek, how warm the smiles they exchanged had grown. Suddenly Alexander felt on the outside of them, unwelcome, unwanted. Were he to stake his claim right now, demand to sit between them, would he see resentment in their eyes? Would Hephaestion regard his interruption as a nuisance? Perhaps all he was hoping for tonight was the evening's end, when he could retreat with the luscious Thais to the privacy of her scented, feminine bed…

He fingered the bracelet on his arm possessively.

_Shame on you, boy – jealous of a woman!_

_Not here, not now!_ Alexander protested wearily against the demon's whisper. _Besides, it's not like that – you'd never understand!_

_You always did underestimate me, Alexander. Perhaps it's you who'll never understand!_

Alexander started at the sound of his name. They had never used it before. It seemed to give them a new strength, make them more solid. He suddenly felt very cold and was grateful for the cloak of pure, thick Tyrian wool Hephaestion had insisted he wore. Would anyone else understand what he feared losing? Thais and Hephaestion made a charming couple – both dark, both beautiful, both intelligent. No doubt she could amuse him in ways Alexander could not. She could give him attention instead of demanding it from him. She could lavish unlimited time upon his pleasure and comfort. She could listen to him talk, share his worries instead of burdening him with her own. She could be things to him Alexander, even as a prince, had never been able to be. He forced himself to return his gaze to Laomedon and Anahid as the lesser of two evils.

Laomedon had grown very animated – as, indeed had Anahid. Though the conversation was in Persian it was not difficult to work out the subject, for Laomedon always told stories with wild gestures and elaborate expressions and Alexander had heard the story many times, first from Erigyius, then from Laomedon after Erigyius had died – Erigyius' great, Homeric duel with Satibarzanes, the rebel satrap of Aria.

It was Satibarzanes who had come to tell Alexander that the traitor Bessos was calling himself Great King; as a reward, Alexander had allowed him to keep his satrapy but he had soon rebelled and Alexander had sent Erigyius in pursuit. Laomedon was usually generous in his telling of the story, and here he was apparently softening the blow of a Persian defeat by praising the brilliance and energy of Artabazus who had fought at Erigyius' side despite his age; Alexander heard the name of Barsine's father mentioned a number of times.

Now Laomedon was miming the throwing off of a helmet and waving his arm about as if wielding a spear – he was obviously at the point where Satibarzanes, seeing the sides equally matched, had rode forward and thrown off his helmet, daring any man to fight him one-on-one to settle the matter at last. And now, Erigyius was taking off his own helmet to show his greying hair and prove he was a man, not a boy, and they were equally matched. "The day has arrived," Laomedon suddenly switched to Greek, "on which I shall show by victory or by an honourable death the quality of Alexander's friends and fighting men!" As he translated this, Alexander saw Anahid pressing her small hands to her cheeks, her eyes round with awe. She asked something; Alexander only made out Erigyius' name. Laomedon held up a warning finger, evidently telling her to be patient. The next minute he nearly knocked her off the couch describing Satibarzanes throwing his spear and only just missing Erigyius, springing to his feet to illustrate Erigyius riding forward to fling his own spear – then clasping at his throat to show where it had struck the rebel satrap. Anahid covered her eyes, her face flushed with what looked like genuine excitement. Suddenly she looked so young – hardly older than Roxana. Laomedon laughed at her apprehension and explained how Erigyius moved in for the kill.

Alexander's drink fuddled brain gradually recalled what was coming next, but his reactions were too dulled to enable him to look away in time. Laomedon made a gesture of tossing something into Anahid's lap. The girl screamed, then burst into hysterical giggles as Laomedon contritely patted her hand and offered her some watered wine. Of course it was all mime, a silly game to amuse a pretty girl. But for just a moment Alexander could have sworn he had seen Satibarzanes' severed head, just as Erigyius had tossed it to him upon his triumphant return.

Alexander pushed away his wine cup, feeling sick. He could not help looking towards Hephaestion again, whose arm was around Thais' waist. He longed to go to him then, but was not sure if it was for the pleasure of Hephaestion's company, or the pleasure of pushing Thais out of the way. Hephaestion had always smiled so brightly when Alexander came to share his couch… it was one of those little public honours all men were gratified to receive from their king, but Hephaestion, instead of learning to take such things for granted, seemed to appreciate them more than anyone else. That was just one of so many things besides his obvious beauty that had made him stand out from all Alexander's others friends right from the beginning, just one more thing to savour in him.

A sudden chill touched Alexander. Had he _stopped _doing that? Had he stopped valuing everything that was so precious about his Hephaestion and begun taking his devotion as due to him as his commander and sovereign? Had this private disaster begun _before_ Anahid had ever cursed him with her arrival? No, he had never stopped valuing Hephaestion – Alexander had always been too respectful of the gods, too aware of hubris to take their gifts for granted. But did _Hephaestion_ know that?

_Don't be a fool, Alexander! Can't you see his ingratitude, his smug arrogance? Tell him to take his arm away from that slut!_ _He's yours, he should be grateful to be yours – he has no right to demand anything more!_

For once, Alexander could not find the energy to argue with the demon – he did not even think he wanted to.

_Tell Ptolemy to keep a tighter reign on his whores! This is his fault! His fault! His fault!_

Alexander's eyes shifted to Ptolemy. But he felt no anger then; he simply looked at his old friend and saw his own thoughts reflected back at him.

* * *

Hephaestion gazed meditatively about the large covered pavilion, relieved to see the party drawing to a drowsy, comfortable close. As full of food as they were of drink, the diners were lounging on their couches, talking lazily to one another, listening to the music, fumbling half-heartedly with hetaerae or just sleeping like the dead. He had enjoyed the first part of the party; had taken an unashamed pride at having Thais beside him, coolly amused at the stares they had received and at the thought that perhaps this would give them something more to gossip about than Alexander's marriage. Thais was utterly charming both to him and his men who were drawn to their couch like moths to a flame, their eyes alive with curiosity and not a little envy. Hephaestion had noted with admiration how she had the same wonderful talent as Alexander for making any man feel not only welcome but special; of subtly altering the pattern of her conversation to include anyone who came to her.

Now things had grown quiet and that somehow brought sadness with it, a sense of ending, of parting. Thais was stroking his hair and talking softly to him, but his eyes and his thoughts wandered helplessly, loosened by the influence of Dionysus and Hypnos combined. Inevitably they strayed to Alexander; his lover had been sitting for a while with Iris and Leonatus, but at that moment he turned towards Hephaestion and their eyes met. At once Hephaestion knew what was wanted. As soon as Alexander made to rise, he stirred himself, turning to Thais to ask her as tactfully as possible to leave him – but Thais was gone. She had vanished as quickly and silently as if her presence had been an illusion sent by the gods. A remarkable woman in every sense.

Hephaestion smiled lovingly up at his king. If there had been any resentment in Alexander before, there was none now, only a gentle, plaintive sadness that made Hephaestion ache to hold him close in his arms. Without hesitation he clasped Alexander's hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. "It has been a fine day, Hephaestion," Alexander said faintly, "I am so very proud…"

"Eudaemon has surpassed himself," Hephaestion agreed.

"It wasn't him I was thinking of…"

Hephaestion looked quietly down at their linked hands. "May I come to you tonight?" he asked in a whisper.

Alexander blinked at him, a tremulous smile tugging at lips, but then he lowered his eyes ruefully. "I can't," he murmured faintly, "I have been invited to finish the evening with Roxana's family… her mother and sisters will be there. After that it would seem rude if I didn't spend the night with her…"

"Alé…" Hephaestion wanted to protest, to point out that Alexander looked exhausted, even a little feverish. But any complaint he made now would seem petulant. "Shall I help you change?"

Alexander shook his head, reaching out to caress Hephaestion's cheek. "A servant will come for me. Tion, I…" Hephaestion was disturbed to see real fear in his friend's eyes. "I think I…"

"My king, I am at your service…"

Alexander started visibly as a young eunuch arrived to prostrate himself. Hephaestion cursed quietly at the interruption but it was too late; Alexander had steadied himself and was getting purposefully to his feet. Telling the boy to wait outside, he straightened his cloak and cast a departing glance about the room to all who were still conscious. "Health to you all my dear friends…"

Amidst a bleary chorus of responses, Hephaestion rose too. Blotting out the rest of the world, he put his hands upon Alexander's shoulders and kissed him lightly upon the lips. Alexander gazed dreamily up at him for a long moment, then made his way out of the pavilion.

Ptolemy and Anahid had departed some time before; Hephaestion spied Laomedon sitting alone, sipping disinterestedly at his wine and tracing the pattern of one of the elaborately embroidered cushions upon his couch with a steady finger. He at least had not been engulfed by Dionysus tonight; the languor in his manner seemed borne more of despondency than of wine. He smiled affectionately at Hephaestion as the younger man came to sit beside him, but slowly his blue-green eyes filled with tears. Without hesitation, Hephaestion settled back on the couch and drew Laomedon's head into his lap, gently stroking his fair hair.

"I don't weep for myself," Laomedon said with a dismal laugh, "but for you… Poor Hephaestion, now Erigyius is gone, who's left to tease you and hunt you and lay siege to your virtue…?"

"You, perhaps…?" Hephaestion suggested with a soft chuckle.

"No," Laomedon sighed, "not me. I never had as strong a killer's instinct as my brother. I might have caught you but I would have cut you free of my net before I delivered the fatal blow. But not Erigyius… if you'd finally stepped into his trap he would have skinned and eaten you alive!"

"I miss him, Laomedon," Hephaestion said quietly, "I always had a childish liking for him, even his teasing, though I never told him so."

Laomedon laughed. "It's just as well you didn't. You were blessed by Eros, Hephaestion – be thankful it was Alexander who got to you before Erigyius did. He knew only too well how to win the hearts of romantic boys – but he would have broken yours, loving with the depth you do. No… you and Alexander were chosen for each other." He reached out to stroke Hephaestion's knee with strong, calloused fingers. "So what is this with you and Ptolemy's lovely mistress? You've stunned us all, you know. But we should have known better – Hephaestion Amyntoros doesn't do things by halves! He arrives in Macedon and snatches the heart of our prince under the noses of so many would-be _erastes; _suddenly all those veterans, those older boys who were favoured by Alexander's partiality were left standing out in the cold!Should we now be surprised when he snatches the most desirable woman in the army from a man no-one ever thought would give her up?"

"It's not like that!" Hephaestion protested. "I didn't steal her from anyone… it was just…" He frowned, not in a mood to discuss the changes within himself with anyone until he had the chance to discuss them with Alexander. "It was time, that's all."

"There, now, Hephaestion," Laomedon soothed, "no-one minds! If Ptolemy can't keep her that's his lookout!" But then he shifted, leaning up on an elbow to look into Hephaestion's face. "We're more worried about the greater love in your life. Are you looking after our precious boy, Hephaestion?"

Hephaestion's anger rose, and then slumped as he gazed down into open, trusting eyes. "I'm trying to. But he's not making it easy."

"He never did," Laomedon noted wryly. Then he grinned, letting his hand slide up Hephaestion's thigh. "Erigyius would be screaming with jealousy if he could see me now… he always did love to sing the praises of your thighs…" Ignoring Hephaestion's squawk of protest he added, "would you like to infuriate his dear shade even more?"

"How…?" Hephaestion asked doubtfully.

Laomedon sat up. "Spend the rest of the night with me. No, not for love, my friend," he grinned as Hephaestion gaped at him, "I'm still too Greek to try chasing men your age… the time for that has sadly passed… no, it's a clear night and I think I'd like to look at the dioscori – those beautiful heavenly twins, brothers who loved each other more than they loved immortality… our mother loved to tell us the story, of how Polydeuces, the immortal twin, pleaded with Zeus to have his brother back when mortal Castor was slain… and Zeus compromised by letting them be immortal one day, shades in Hades the next. I suppose Erigyius and I will have to settle for the chance of a meeting in the Elysium fields, if they'll let us in… I haven't looked at those stars since Erigyius died, but I think with you it might be soothing…"

Hephaestion smiled and nodded. Slipping his arm about Laomedon's waist, he led him out into the darkness.


	11. Chapter 10

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 10: **Four troubled lovers awake after the festival…

**NOTES: **A very short chapter - when I was slicing up the completed story, I originally made this longer, but I later decided these four little scenes belonged on their own...

* * *

Thais wandered quietly across the pavilion. The nights in Sogdiana carried a chill and she had sent her maid to bring her a fur lined cloak. A part of her asked what she was waiting for – was she hoping for something from Hephaestion? It had hurt her pride just a little to step out of the way for Alexander, but she supposed she ought to get used to it; it was one battle she was certain never to win, and in accepting defeat she had at least had a chance to show Hephaestion that she understood her position, and his.

As she turned a corner she caught sight of a familiar figure moving with the slow, careful tread of a man just sober enough to be aware he was unsteady on his legs. For a second she considered turning back the way she had come, but she quickly mastered herself. He was alone, after all, and the night had left her with a feeling of quiet melancholy which made her yearn in a distant half realised way for the company of a friend. The time for spite had passed; what was done was done. And it suddenly seemed a shame to let so many years, so many shared experiences, be utterly forgotten. "Joy to you, son of Lagus," she called in a gentle whisper.

Ptolemy turned sharply, gave a short, awkward laugh. "Thais! Not with Hephaestion tonight, then?"

Thais blinked at him, anger rising within her at the sarcasm in his tone. "Apparently not," she answered bitterly, pulling her cloak close about her body and turning on her heel. To Hades with him. To Hades with them all!

* * *

Ptolemy winced, cursing under his breath as he watched Thais disappear the way she had come. He hadn't intended to be so abrupt with her; the harsh words had broken from him thoughtlessly, let loose by the wine and the final acceptance of his own stupidity. Once they had left the party he had sent Anahita ahead on her own, annoyed by the disappointment she had failed to conceal when he had separated her from Laomedon; even now he was in no mood to return to the accommodation where he knew she would be waiting dutifully for him. There again he had been a fool – the answer had been before him, staring him in the face, and he had failed to act upon it. He could have settled the problem with Anahita that very night and been free, here and now, to try to settle with Thais. As it was he had nothing to offer – at least nothing he was prepared to offer. A nobleman didn't apologise to a hetaera; a man had no business apologising to a woman. Yet her tone had been affable when she had addressed him just now, and they had always known each other so well – if he had only thought before speaking, perhaps this very night they might have begun to bridge the gulf between them… 

Cursing once more, Ptolemy turned and headed back in the direction of the party. There might be a few people still conscious enough to keep him company and there would certainly still be wine to drink… and a soft couch to pass out upon…

* * *

Tightly wrapped in a thick fur blanket, Alexander stepped out into the cold air and gazed up at a black sky thick with stars. He had left Roxana sleeping soundly, having lain beside her until he was sure she had fallen well and truly into the arms of Hypnos. He had blamed his lack of passion on drink, rich food and fatigue; fortunately she had stopped being so demanding of late and she had only smiled at him sympathetically and lain down beside him without protest. She looked rather tired herself, having apparently greatly enjoyed the day's activities. In so many ways she was still a child. 

There would be no sleep for Alexander tonight. How could he sleep here, in this beautiful but thin-walled pavilion? How many people would he wake with his screams tonight? He gazed wearily down at the wine jar he had asked a servant to leave for him but knew he couldn't touch it for fear of passing out. He could always go in search of Hephaestion – he might be with Thais but surely if Alexander sent a page to find him he would come? They could sit up and…

And what? Talk? About what? The fact Alexander was afraid to sleep? _Why_ he was afraid to sleep? And then what? Would they make love? Would Alexander dare to fall asleep in Hephaestion's arms?

"Hephaestion…!" Alexander whispered plaintively, and hid his face in his hands.

* * *

Dawn was only just warming the sky with her tones of pink, orange and red when Hephaestion awoke. For a moment he was utterly confused to feel an unfamiliar body curled against his own; then he recognised Laomedon and smiled wryly. He could just imagine the nosey bastards pointing and whispering when they saw Alexander's old friend leaving his room in the morning! First Thais, now Laomedon – where would it all end? 

They had stayed out for several hours, sharing wine, gazing at the stars and recounting their legends; Laomedon had always been a poetic soul compared to his earthy brother Erigyius and had quoted some beautiful verses while Hephaestion had soothingly stroked his hair. Of course their conversation inevitably wandered to Erigyius, but Laomedon was calm and reflective now, apparently comforted by Hephaestion's presence. "A charming girl, that Anahid," he had noted distantly, "Erigyius would have loved teasing her… assuming he could make himself understood… he never did have the patience to learn languages properly…"

"She's very beautiful, too," Hephaestion had answered a little wistfully.

"I think she genuinely enjoyed the story I told her… oh I know what she is, I know they're taught to appear interested in any old crap a man rambles on about… but there was something about her…" Laomedon had shrugged. "Perhaps I'm just getting old."

Moments later he had drifted into a deep sleep lying back in Hephaestion's arms. The night had grown too cold for them to stay out; Hephaestion had unhesitatingly gathered the smaller man into his arms and carried him back to his own bed, unwilling to let him wake alone. But as Laomedon had drowsily shifted closer sadness had touched Hephaestion, reminding him, if any reminder was needed, just how long it had been since he and Alexander had slept together the night through.

Hephaestion slid carefully from the bed, pulling the furs up around his sleeping friend and giving him a fraternal kiss. Calling softly for one of his servants, he ordered some breakfast and some well mixed wine. Then he turned his attention to thoughts to the little matter of Daena, daughter of Laertes.

TBC


	12. Chapter 11

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 11: **Iason explains the route to true happiness, the love-route closes in on Daena – and the demons close in on Alexander…

**NOTES: (Guidance) **Alexander is having a rough time in this and his dreams are unpleasant, so I hope nobody finds them too upsetting. He is in the dark now but I promise there is light – and love – waiting for him at the end of the tunnel. (Anyone who knows my stories well knows angst isn't my usual "genre" and this isn't a sign of the future, only a temporary diversion!)

I also want to say another huge, massive thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. It was worth all the effort of writing it, multiplied by one hundred thousand. I'm sorry I haven't been able to keep up with replying to reviews, but I will at least try to acknowledge everyone in the next update!

* * *

The Judgement of Paris. What a lot of nonsense! Iason had listened attentively to Hylas singing about it last night because Hylas had a lovely voice – a harmonious voice – but the story was ridiculous. Three noble goddesses fighting over who was the more beautiful? A war starting because of their squabble? Absurd. Iason did believe in the gods; he just didn't believe in a lot of the stories told about them. For him the gods were logical – each was assigned a duty, a matter to take care of, be it the rising of the sun, the shaking of the earth or the management of the dead. It all worked in harmony. For the gods to do anything stupid was simply unacceptable. Only mortals did stupid things. Illogical things. Inconsistent, contrary things. So he had said last night, proposing the theory that Paris had made up that silly story about the goddesses in order to seduce Helen, and Helen had only pretended to believe him because it made her feel less guilty for running away with him. Satisfyingly logical!

He didn't usually discuss this viewpoint with anyone except occasionally Admetus, but he and his friends had been in such high spirits since they had watched Helenus give Nireus' uncle a good whack that he had drunk more unmixed wine than usual and had forgotten himself. It wasn't that Thanatos was really that much of a lecher; he just loved to persecute boys, either making them blush with his pinches and his innuendos, or making them sick with his stories of being buried alive for days under a pile of rotting corpses or seeing a fellow cavalryman carrying on fighting after his head had been cut off - stories he usually told after they had been invited to take supper with him and his family. As soon as their officers were too drunk to care what they did, the entire complement of pages had gathered outside the main pavilion to crown Helenus as their king – even Narcissus, who had spent the evening flirting with Eudaemon and massaging his wounded thigh, joined them to make a very vulgar speech in praise of his brother before Hylas and Hyacinthus had taken turns singing songs in his honour. Well, the others weren't as good at holding their wine as Iason was, so hopefully they wouldn't remember what he had said.

Logic and harmony – that was what mattered to him; so he had explained to his friends at length last night. He hated hysterics and unnecessary emotion. Hephaestion was logical and practical and he brought harmony to the running of the army and to the life of the king. That was enough reason for Iason to love him. Iason's relationship with Admetus was harmonious too – they suited each other; neither of them was possessive or hysterical or given to passionate avowals, but they knew what they meant to one another. And the same could be said of his relationship with Leonatus. It made perfect sense – Leonatus did what an _erastes_ was supposed to do - he encouraged him in his wrestling, helped him with his combat training, introduced him to useful people and made love in a pleasant and undemanding way, never asking him to leave Hephaestion's service or to spy on Hephaestion for him, never expecting him to swoon stupidly over him or tell him how wonderful he was. That was what Iris was for.

Love could be logical – even unrequited love, he explained, nodding to Hylas, who blushed feverishly until Iason had explained: Hylas was in love with Hephaestion, and his love was not returned, at least not the way a lover returned love to a beloved. But being in love with Hephaestion didn't make Hylas unhappydid it? Hylas had thought for a moment, then shrugged and shook his head. And it didn't make Hephaestion unhappy either. Hylas served Hephaestion with absolute loyalty and worked extra hard for him because he loved him, and that made Hephaestion happy. And because Hephaestion was happy with Hylas, Hylas was happy too. So there was logic and there was harmony. And that was the true key to happiness. As Iason had finally finished his discourse and sunk back exhausted, the other boys had applauded and Hylas had given him a kiss.

Iason waited patiently. He was good at waiting; he was also good at banishing all emotion from his face and voice. That was why Hephaestion had chosen him. This way made sense – she had to come this way in order to attend the princess. Why go searching for her when to wait made so much more sense?

Sure enough, in a moment she emerged, setting off across the pavilion unescorted, with the assurance of a woman used to life in an army camp.

"Joy to you, daughter of Laertes," Iason called in his low, even tones.

Daena turned in surprise. She looked startled; panic flickered in her dark eyes. Obviously she knew who he was, or at least who he served. She looked like she wanted to turn and run back to where her husband was sleeping. "Yes?"

"I am Iason, under the command of Hephaestion son of Amyntor," Iason continued evenly, "my commander would like to speak to you." He could tell she was searching for an excuse, the most obvious one being that Roxana, wife of King Alexander, would need her. So he added, "it is a matter of some urgency, daughter of Laertes – and it will not take long."

Daena's shoulders slumped. "No," she said softly, "I don't suppose it will."

* * *

"Hephaestion…?" Alexander stumbled down the road, away from the blinding light. It was a horrible light, cold and bitter and greenish in colour; it seemed to follow him, spreading and thickening about him faster than he could run. _"Hephaestion!"_

He could hear the clatter of hooves somewhere behind him and he knew he did not want to wait for the rider to catch up. Distantly he could hear his own name being shouted, over and over again with depressing familiarity, _"Alexander, Alexander, Alexander!"_ He knew what was coming; it seemed he had been here so many times before. But this time he would not wait for it. He would fight against it. He _had_ to fight against it…

"_Hephaestion!" _he screamed, as a figure appeared on the road ahead, "Hephaestion, _wait for me! Please!"_ Hephaestion turned, eyes wild, then took to his heels and ran. "Hephaestion, _no! Wait for me! Please!"_

It was getting harder and harder to breathe and he was so tired. Hephaestion was so quick, kicking up clouds of dust with his bare feet, leaving bloody footprints behind him. Alexander could not let him get away. Glancing over his shoulder he saw the green light growing closer. Straining to find the last of his energy, he sprang for Hephaestion and grabbed him around the knees. They tumbled into the dust together, the sharp grit scratching at their limbs. Hephaestion struggled against him but he was only a youth and Alexander was a man. "Hephaestion," he panted, seizing his wrists and forcing them back over his head, "here, stop it, _stop it,_ I won't hurt you, _stop it!"_

"_No! No more, no more!"_ Hephaestion wailed, thrashing beneath him.

"_Hephaestion, stop fighting me! You're mine," _Alexander panted, _"you're mine… Hephaestion, please be still, let me love you…"_

"_No!"_ Hephaestion moaned as Alexander tried to soothe him with kisses, to hold him close in his arms; he couldn't let him go, not now – if he would just stop fighting him long enough, if he would just accept his caresses one more time… the more Hephaestion fought him, the more the need to possess him gathered strength until he was hurting him, bruising his limbs, pulling his hair as he forced his kisses upon him. He couldn't – he wouldn't force Hephaestion; he had never forced himself on anyone, but if Hephaestion wouldn't stop fighting him…

"_Alexander!"_

Alexander glanced frantically around him. _"Cleitos!"_ Joy filled him. So he was still alive, the rest had been a dream! "Cleitos, help me!"

"Here I am, Alexander!" Cleitos stood before him, arms held wide.

Alexander staggered towards him to embrace him. But just then the sound of a horse's hooves resounded on the road behind them and the green light engulfed them.

"_Alexander! Alexander! Alexander!"_

"_No!" _Alexander screamed, knowing what was coming. _"No! Not again! Cleitos, look out! CLEITOS!"_

The spear shot past Alexander, striking Cleitos and running him through. _"Alexander!" _the voices called in triumph, "_Alexander! Alexander! Behold, the head of a traitor!"_

Alexander moaned weakly, closing his eyes as he turned and held out his arms to receive the gift that was thrown out from the light. Only by sheer effort of will did he finally manage to look down at the severed head Erigyius had brought him.

It was Hephaestion's.

He was still screaming hysterically moments after he woke, though this time there was no-one there to hear. He had finally given in to the doubtful lure of sleep when they had returned from Eudaemon's town, though he had insisted all servants, pages and guards retreated from his rooms and that no-one, not even Hephaestion, was to be permitted entry. He had expected the nightmares as one expected a headache after a night of drinking – a necessary evil. But this had been far worse than anything he had feared.

Shivering violently, Alexander pulled a fur about his shoulders and went over to the window, throwing open the shutters and gasping as he breathed in the cool air. The sky was dusky; the sun was the faintest glow above the hills. He must have slept all afternoon. Silently he seated himself on the sill, waiting for the nausea to pass.

Images of the dream lingered to haunt him. He had never, not even in his most abandoned, drink-fuelled fantasies ever imagined wanting to treat Hephaestion or anyone else he loved so savagely. The fact that the boy struggling beneath him had been the sweet, fun-loving Hephaestion who had made Mieza into Alexander's private Elysium made it so much worse. But the image of Hephaestion's severed head, the mouth open, the eyes rolled back, made Alexander's gut constrict.

_I have to stop this,_ he thought with a sudden cold clarity. _It has to end. Or I am finally going to go mad._

Perfectly calm, he padded across the floor, stepped into the large adjoining antechamber and threw open the door to the corridor in which Narcissus and Hyancinthus were standing on duty. "Draw me a bath and prepare some fresh clothes," he ordered tonelessly. "And send for…" He hesitated, then reconsidered. "And bring me a cup of wine."

As his servants bathed and dressed him, Alexander focused only on the evening ahead. It would be the kind of evening he knew Hephaestion adored – they might share a bath for the pure sensual pleasure of it; perhaps Hephaestion might like to rub Alexander down with oil, technically a task for a menial but one he seemed to savour. Or they might just share a cup of wine before Hephaestion made slow love to Alexander the way only he knew how. Their lovemaking would warm and comfort them and melt any barriers between them. And then Alexander would talk. He would tell him everything. The idea of it filled him with a dull panic but he dismissed it. Hephaestion would understand. Hephaestion always understood. And when he did he would give Alexander shelter from his demons. If Alexander did not take this step at last, the demons would eat him alive.

Half an hour later he was clean and dressed in a simple white chiton. Putting the same cloak of purple wool about his shoulders that he had worn the day before, he set out alone for Hephaestion's rooms.

The surprise – and embarrassment – on the faces of Hephaestion's guards told him everything he needed to know as soon as he arrived. Hephaestion was not there.

Alexander did not go back the way he had come. He entered Hephaestion's bedroom, stared for a long time at the wide bed with its red and gold brocaded draperies of elaborately twining fruit-laden vines, then quietly sat down upon it. He caressed the pillows with trembling fingers; finally put his head against them, searching out Hephaestion's scent.

_Thais. He's gone to Thais. _

_It's too late. _

_It's over._

_At last, Alexander. At last we are alone._

Panting, hissing and growling, Alexander's demons moved in for the kill.

* * *

She did not want to get involved, but when she had been called upon it suddenly all seemed to inevitable, as if everything that had happened since she had been assigned to Princess Roshanak had been leading up to this confrontation.

She had never liked the woman from the moment she had seen her. She was always lingering when the others had departed, fiddling with draperies and cushions that did not need to be straightened or reorganising bottles and jars which were already tidy. Daena had finally lost patience with her and begun ordering her out of the room when she and Roshanak wanted to talk privately. The princess couldn't understand her behaviour; she never even suspected the truth. Daena had not suspected all of it until this morning – she had guessed the woman was spying on them and very possibly eavesdropping on their conversations in Persian, but she had originally thought it was only Daena herself or possibly Roshanak she was reporting on – making sure that Daena was not giving Oxyartes' daughter bad advice, even trying to ruin her marriage to Alexander for reasons of her own, or that Roshanak was not complaining unduly about her new husband or rejecting his advances or even considering looking elsewhere for passion. Perhaps, after all, that was true. But it was apparently not the main objective.

Daena did not much care about the political manoeuvring of Oxyartes or his rivals. She did not care if his alliance with Alexander collapsed and Alexander went skulking back to Greece, unable to move forward without allies in Bactria. But she did care about Roshanak. She loved her as she loved one of her own daughters – and the idea of Alexander suddenly hearing one slanderous report too many and beginning to suspect that Oxyartes, and by association by his daughter, were deliberately trying to come between him and his beloved Hephaestion, put Daena on edge. Of course he would believe his wife jealous of his lover – and Daena doubted the marriage would survive beyond the formalities if he suspected she posed any threat to him.

Hephaestion, she knew, could take care of himself. If necessary he could probably arrange the woman to be compromised – if what Daena had learned about her past doings was really true it would not be difficult. He could even have her permanently silenced – judging from the way he had supervised the torture of one of his fellow officers, it would not be beyond his conscience to dispose of a maid. But Daena quite liked the subtlety of his planning – and she liked the idea of delivering the blow herself.


	13. Chapter 12

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 12: **Alexander has a frightening confrontation with his demons…

**NOTE: (Guidance) **Once again this is a bit of a disturbing chapter; it really depends how sensitive you are. But rest assured, this is as bad as it gets – Alexander comes out the other side of this and… well… I'll let you read it…

Sorry this has taken so long, the christmas rush has taken over my life. I am also sorry I haven't been able to acknowledge more reviews - FF has been playing up a bit and I've been all over the place, but I will try my best to catch up on this chapter. Thanks again to ALL OF YOU who have reviewed so faithfully and in so much detail - to those I owe emails, they're coming very soon!!!

_

* * *

I told you not to trust him! _

"Leave me alone."

_I warned you about him!_

"Shut up."

_Accept it, Alexander – he's outgrown you! You're still a boy and he's now a man! He's turned to women as a man should!_

"You don't understand. You've never understood. Hephaestion loves me…"

_I didn't say that he's stopped loving you, Alexander – only that his preference is now for women!_

"No! Hephaestion still wants me! I can tell he still wants me – the way he loves me when we're together… the touch of his hands… the look in his eyes… he loves me and he wants me!"

_Then why is he with her?_

"It's natural to want a woman, you said so yourself! I'm married now, aren't I? Isn't that enough for you?"

_Married! You're not the most enthusiastic husband, though, are you Alexander? You let thoughts of Hephaestion distract you from your duties as a man! Hephaestion knows better – he goes to that Greek whore purely for pleasure!_

"So what if he does? Why should I be jealous? His attitude to me hasn't changed – only last night I had to refuse him the right to come to my bed!"

_He only asked because he knew you'd have to refuse! He comes to you now only to keep the special place he has claimed in your life! You know its true, Alexander! You know why he still tolerates you! You know what he is – what he's always been - _

"Don't you_ dare!" _Alexander sprang from Hephaestion's bed, pacing furiously across the room. "Don't you _dare _call him – call him _that – get out!" _Alexander shouted, clutching at his head, "get out, I won't speak to you!"

The demon's voice came again, chastened. _Calm yourself, Alexander. I meant nothing like that. All I mean is that his love for you makes your… advances… tolerable…_

"_No!_ He loves me!"

_Love and desire are two different things – you know that._

Alexander gripped the bed post and closed his eyes. "Go away."

_You know I'm right._

"Go away!"

_He doesn't deserve your love. He's never deserved it. He's never shown you the respect you deserve. If he loves you so much, why is he off amusing himself with whores when he can see how unhappy you are? Because he doesn't care, that's why. It was all right when things were going well, when he could bask in your glory and assume a rank he didn't earn, but now times are hard he shows you what he really is!_

"_Stop it!"_ Alexander cried, his forehead striking the wooden post with a resounding crack. _"Stop it now!"_

_Call him here, Alexander!_ the demon cajoled, _send for him right now! Confront him with his faithlessness and treachery! Remind him who made him what he is! _

A deep, rumbling laugh echoed through Alexander's mind. _Yes, Alexander, you call him here! Burst in on him and his woman like some screeching harpy! Scream and wail and scratch out his eyes! What are you, a woman? By Zeus, boy, behave like a man!_

"_A man?"_ Alexander cried, "I'm a husband, a father, a leader, a general – a _King!_ I am the Great King – lord of Macedon, Greece and Persia! Haven't I proved myself to you _yet?"_

_There is more to being a man than being fearless in battle and tireless in bed, Alexander. And more to being a king than conquest and titles and the spoils of war! Living in Persian palaces and marrying barbarian princesses doesn't prove a thing – a king should be clever and ruthless as well as strong! A king shouldn't let foolish sentimental attachments blind him to what really matters! You're too old for this now and so is he!_

_He's outgrown you!_

_You need to stand alone!_

_There is no-one you can trust, Alexander… no-one!_

Alexander laughed bitterly. "Oh yes, that's what you'd like, isn't it? Both of you! You want me to be miserable and lonely all of my life – and so I would have been if Hephaestion hadn't been there! So tell me now if you're both so clever, _what do I do now?"_

_Don't speak to me so rudely, Alexander!_

_Show some respect, boy!_

_We are you, after all, where do we come from if not from you?_

_We only speak the words you give us now!_

_You claim not to listen to my words, Alexander, but you know I'm right… why else can you hear me now?_

_What is a child but the sum of his parents?_

"_Answer my question," _Alexander growled, not wanting to think about what they were suggesting, "you just answer my question!"

_Confront him!_

_Forget about him._

_Put him back in his place, and this time see that he keeps to it!_

_Put him aside, boy, he's too old for you!_

_You've given him too much power! He forgets his place – he's laughing at you behind your back!_

_Only one man can be King, Alexander – be a man and take that responsibility on yourself instead of sharing it with him!_

_You can't trust him! You don't need him!_

_You're alone, Alexander… you must remember a king is always be alone._

"I'm not alone," Alexander whispered, "For as long as Hephaestion loves me, I'll never be alone."

_Hephaestion is a weakness. _

"No."

_You do not need him. You're strong enough to manage without him! Put him aside and I'll prove it to you!_

_A king is always alone! Always alone!_

"_Yes!_" Alexander gasped, tears stinging his eyes, _"yes, _I'm alone, _yes,_ I must accept my failure alone, maybe I don't _need _Hephaestion, maybe I can survive without him, but I _want _him! Neither of you understand – neither of you have ever really understood! You don't know me… neither of you know me now…"

_Of course I know you. Nobody knows you like I do – like I always have!_

_What is a child, Alexander? What is a child but the sum of his parents?_

_Listen to me Alexander! You know I think only of you!_

_Listen to me, boy, you know I'm right!_

_Listen to me, Alexander!_

_Listen to me…_

_LISTEN!_

"_NO!" _Alexander fell dizzily down onto the bed once more, his head pounding, and his vision clouding, feverish shivers spreading in waves through his body. As he groped helplessly at the bedclothes, the room seemed to fill with that sickly greenish light and he heard the faint echo of hoof falls, the distant voice crying his name. _Alexander… Alexander… Alexander…_

_ALEXANDER!_

Alexander's head jerked up violently, a sudden icy chill spreading through his body. "Oh gods…" he choked, "not you…"

_Yes, you know me, don't you,_ the new voice sneered, _finally found the balls to face me, have you? Thought you'd left me behind, didn't you, but you didn't kill me! You can't kill me! I've just been biding my time, waiting for the veil to fall from your eyes so you'd see nothing has changed – look at you, still whimpering over Hephaestion! You're still not a king, Alexander – Philip was a king, Darius was a king… you're just a silly, spoilt little brat playing at soldiers!_

"I hate you…" Alexander rasped.

The demon gave a loud, wheezy laugh that sent shivers through Alexander's body. _So what? You still need me! Why are you listening to their useless chatter? Sex! That's all they can throw at you! But it's not the sex you're worrying about, is it? Face it! It's his friendship you're going to lose – his companionship! His love! Face up to it; this is all your own fault! You know that, don't you? He's probably off right now, falling in love with that bitch, and it's all your fault!_

Moaning, Alexander nodded. "Yes… yes… if I'd given Anahid to Laomedon…"

_Idiot! _The demon bellowed, _stop pretending! Admit it! You should have given her to HEPHAESTION! All he wanted was some time with a woman, any woman, to keep up with you and his other friends! If you'd given him Anahid how much of a threat could she have been? She could have amused him with her arts and her beauty, could have kept him warm when he was apart from you, and he would have loved you all the more for your generosity and your trust! _

"All right, _all right…!"_

_But it's not all right, is it? Fool! You should have KNOWN! You gave him Hylas, thinking that was enough, but Hephaestion took no notice of him! He wants someone to amuse him, someone intelligent, someone on his own level, not just some boy to screw! He likes experience and intelligence, not just pretty looks and youth! He could have moulded Anahid the way he wanted her! But Thais is something far more dangerous! A confidante! A friend,_ the demon purred with obvious satisfaction._ You, who have always held women in such high regard, understand that even better than Hephaestion himself! _

"You're no better than the other two," Alexander sneered bitterly, "you can throw insults and mock my mistakes, but what answers do you have? How can I make things right? _What do I do?"_

_Nothing! Just as you've done so far! Look at you! What have you done to win Hephaestion's love? What have you done to show him what he means to you? You're too wrapped up in your own self-inflicted misery, playing at the god, creating your own furies to torment yourself with! Your arrogant hubris sickens me! Are you now so utterly convinced of your own divinity that you think you're the only one fit to judge you, to assign your punishment? How can a mortal man judge and punish himself? What outrageous conceit!_

Alexander shook his head, his eyes blinded by stinging tears. "But if I let go, aren't I pardoning myself? Aren't I giving in to all the flattery and the fawning words? Should I tell myself a King can't be wrong, that killing y – that killing Cleitos was justified? Should I forget his words? Should I just ignore his reproaches? What right do I have to free myself of guilt?"

Was he imagining things, or did the demon's harsh, mocking tone soften very slightly? _The gods know what's in your heart and there is no higher judgement than theirs. Leave the judgement to them; accept what is and what was and stop this absurd punishment! If you are truly fit to be a king, then think like a king! Kings haven't the luxury of such self indulgent remorse! Kings have no time to brood! You have an Empire to run! _

"W-why are you helping me…?" Alexander demanded with all the energy he could muster.

_Idiot boy… _The demon now sounded as weary as Alexander felt. _I AM you. We're ALL you. Or did you really think the psyches of the living or the dead would bother to dog your heels this far? Is there no end to your presumptuousness? Or your blind ignorance? Don't you even recognise your own jealousy, your own self doubt? Surely you at least recognise ME? Yes, you do! You thought you'd slain me – when was it? Back at Gaugamela? At Issus? But you can't slay me – you can't slay any of us! We'll always be with you – what you need to decide is what you are – servant or master? Are you going to let us govern you like a snivelling boy or are you going to send us all back into the shadows where we belong? Are you going to carry on clutching at us like a coward or are you going to let go? _

"And – and what about Hephaestion…?" Alexander whispered, "should I let go of him too?" When no answer came, he let his head fall back onto the pillows. The scent of Hephaestion, musky and warm, began to fill his nostrils. Only Hephaestion. No-one else. Everything in this room was Hephaestion; nothing here had changed.

The demon still did not answer his question, but as Alexander pulled the fur lined counterpane up around himself and smelled Hephaestion upon that too, he realised that it no longer mattered; that he had all the answers he needed. He was trembling uncontrollably, exhausted, sickened, unable to stop crying, but for the first time since he had killed Cleitos there were no demons, no voices, no thoughts in his head but his own. He buried his hot, sweating face in the cool silk, soaking it through with his tears.

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 13

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 13: **While the love-route reaches its end, Alexander draws comfort from Hephaestion at last, but it leads him to make a very difficult decision…

**NOTES: **Things are finally lightening up a bit, as we get closer to the end… this story has taken a lot longer to upload than I planned but there are still a few chapters to go! If I can manage it, the final part will be posted on Christmas day! Meanwhile I can only apologise for my erratic responses – if anyone wants to ask me something about the story please feel free to send me a PM!

* * *

"Stop right there - I want to speak to you!" 

Roshanak's maid turned only very slightly before she caught herself. It would not do to be caught understanding a command in Persian; it was a trap she had nearly fallen into several times. Meekly, as if startled only by the sound of a voice, she continued on her way towards Princess Roshanak's rooms.

"_Armati!_ I said I wanted to speak to you!"

She had to stop that time. What did the stupid half-barbarian bitch want, anyway? Armati had suspected for a while now that woman Daena had guessed she could understand Persian, but what business was it of hers if she could? Maybe she was just trying to assert her authority over her – maybe she even had a job for her. Armati was willing to turn her hand to just about anything as long as the price was right.

"Yes, my lady?" she replied innocently in Sogdian. Then she squealed furiously as Daena grabbed her roughly by the hair.

"Don't play stupid games with me, my girl," the interpreter snarled into her face, "I know perfectly well that you can speak Persian – and I know where you came from too! Selling your favours to palace guards while you were in the Royal Harem? Didn't you learn your lesson when you were sent back to the backwater you came from? I think I shall go straight to the princess and tell her just what you are!"

"_Bitch!"_ Armati hissed, struggling uselessly against the other woman's grip, reverting to Persian to make sure her words were understood, _"barbarian bastard daughter of a Greek dog!"_

Daena's hand stuck a stinging blow across her face. "That's enough out of you, Armati," she spat, "you've been telling tales on your betters and it stops as of now! Once the princess finds out you can understand our conversations you'll be dismissed from her private household – that puts an end to your telling her father what we say!"

Armati glared at her, but stopped fighting. Well, what did that matter? Oxyartes found her useful and so did King Alexander. As long as they were willing to pay her for her efforts, what did she care? Life as a maid was only marginally less tedious than life in the harem, where day after day would be wasted in dull, bitchy conversation with jealous concubines and whining, hysterical fat eunuchs. All that really mattered was having enough gold to pay for a few pleasures to make life just a little less boring. She would wait a while – then complain of the barbarian whore to Oxyartes, who would certainly find a more agreeable interpreter for his daughter.

"Whatever you say, my lady," Armati answered sullenly. "I only follow the instructions of my master, after all…"

Daena eyed her slyly. "And if you go running to King Alexander with any more stories of the business of Lord Hephaestion – or tell Lord Oxyartes about our little conversation - I shall personally tell Princess Roshanak that I caught you trying to seduce her husband!"

Armati glared at her, breathing hard, willing her dead on the spot. But before she could recover enough energy to leap for the other woman's throat, Daena had stepped through into Princess Roshanak's private rooms.

* * *

Hephaestion moved noiselessly into the room, pushing the door shut as softly as he could. Shedding his riding boots and cloak he padded across the large room and looked down at the bed. And there, sure enough, was Alexander, ready to make Hephaestion fall in love all over again. 

The Great King looked more like a drowsing shepherd boy, so young and vulnerable, all the lines of age, worry and war smoothed from his face. Hephaestion knelt upon the bed, his gaze caught by the way Alexander's simple white chiton was tangled up around his hips, giving a delightfully uninterrupted view of his strong, slender calves and shapely thighs. Tentatively he reached out and caressed the top of Alexander's thigh; his lover did not stir. Hephaestion let his hand slide inwards. Alexander's stillness was tantalising. Gently he pushed Alexander's legs apart and shifted between them, bending down to kiss the sensitive skin of the inner thighs. He felt the muscles twitch and looked across into unblinking grey eyes. Still Alexander made no sound beyond a soft gasp when Hephaestion's brazen fingers found his manhood and began to explore. While one hand cradled Alexander possessively, the other worked his belt free and pushed up his chiton to reveal his flat, muscular belly. Hephaestion pressed his face into the warm smooth surface of it before lavishing it with moist kisses. How strange, how exciting Alexander's quiescent mood was – he was not always an aggressive lover; another man might almost have considered his need for soft touches and loving words boyish and unworldly. But he was always quick and impatient and always vocal, avowing his love and his pleasure; crying out his will to defy the world and his certainty of their union being sanctioned by the gods. Gradually Hephaestion worked his way up, stroking, tasting, breathing in Alexander's sweet scent as if he was a gift from the gods laid out for Hephaestion's investigation.

He touched and kissed only very lightly, unwilling to break the spell. Only when cautious fingers found their way into Hephaestion's hair did he end the silence. "What benevolent god, I wonder, have I honoured to be given such a marvellous gift?" he asked as he leaned over to gaze into Alexander's face, "tell me, beautiful one, are you really for me?"

Alexander cried out softly and threw his arms about Hephaestion's neck.

A fine greeting indeed – but so much more than that. Relief flooded Hephaestion as he kissed Alexander deeply and crushed him close. He had resigned himself to a fretful, uncomfortable night and instead it seemed as though it might be one illuminated by rediscovered joy. Unable to settle to his work, he had gone to Thais early in the evening when the pages had told him Alexander had taken to his bed, but he was too restless to spend time sipping wine and sharing intellectual conversation and this time her company had failed to soothe him. What was more, unless his imagination was running wild, he had sensed a restlessness in her too – not impatience, but uncertainty. Her smile had seemed just a little forced, her normally fluid movements slightly stiff. Had someone been putting pressure on her? Did she sense trouble coming? Was she seeing something in Alexander that he had missed?

He did not want a distance to grow between them yet when he tried to talk, to tell her what he felt, the words would not come. She was supposed to know how to deal with such moods as men were subject to – that was part of her profession, as much as pleasant talk and delightful sex. Yet something had gone wrong and he sensed she knew it as well as he did. She was no longer just a hetaera and he was no longer just her newest patron. In her company he felt warm and relaxed and at the same time more awake than he had felt in a long time. She excited him, and not just in sexual ways. Strange feelings stirred in him when he looked in her eyes, when they talked, when they made love – feelings he had simply never associated with women. He had expected when he married to care for his wife, hopefully to find her sexually stimulating as well as gracious, modest and obedient. But he had not expected to feel anything like he was feeling now.

_Can a man and a woman be friends?_ No, gods no, not one more problem to worry about, hadn't he enough already? He tried to tell himself he was transferring his need for Alexander to Thais, imagining special qualities of caring and friendship in his relations with her because he was not receiving them from Alexander, so withdrawn did his friend seem into a world of his own that he did not seem to want Hephaestion to enter. But that explanation seemed tenuously thin; were he debating the question with Thais he would lose easily. So what exactly _did _it all mean?

Suddenly the best thing seemed to be to get as far away from her and everyone else as he possibly could. So he had gone to the stables and taken out one of the new Armenioi horses. It was quicker and lighter than Golden, he admitted disloyally, and held itself very proudly, but it lacked some of Golden's independent spirit. Or perhaps in his heart of hearts he was just another conservative Macedonian, searching out the faults in Persian perfection.

The ride had helped to clear his head a little and when he had returned he had passed Daena on her way back to her husband's quarters and received the briefest smile. So the matter of Armati the spy was finally settled – from beginning to end the love-route produced the right results. Love was a powerful thing, for women even as it was for men; he had seen that in Daena's dark, very Persian eyes when he had mentioned Roxana. But still he had remained unsettled – until his own guard had stopped him outside his rooms and whispered to him that the King was waiting for him.

There was warmth and passion in the kisses they now shared, but there was not the uncharacteristically frenzied roughness Alexander had favoured of late. As their passion slowly intensified he startled Hephaestion by rolling them so that Alexander was on top, but when he guided Hephaestion's hand between his legs his movements were gentle, almost coy. And when they finally united Alexander set a dreamy, languorous pace that was maddeningly sweet. Alexander's eyes fixed unblinkingly on Hephaestion's face throughout, even when ecstasy reached its peak, and when Hephaestion began to writhe helplessly beneath him losing all control, a small, triumphant smile pulled at Alexander's lips. Whatever lay behind it, whatever Alexander mistakenly imagined he had lost and now regained, Hephaestion didn't care. When he looked into his friend's eyes, he saw his own Alexander looking back at him, unguarded and open. There was fear and uncertainty there too – all was not yet quite well. But Alexander was reaching out to him now, and at least one battle was won.

"Hephaestion…" Alexander reluctantly lifted his head from his friend's breast. "Do I please you… as a lover?"

"_Alexander…!"_ Hephaestion cried indignantly, his cheeks flushing as he turned his face away from Alexander's gaze, "what a question to ask!"

Alexander was in no mood for any belated deference on Hephaestion's part. Perhaps they could never quite see themselves as equals, but they had been together long enough to know that in moments like this, when they were lying naked in each other's arms, they should be free to talk as they wished. "Tion, please just answer me!"

Hephaestion squirmed beneath him. "Have I ever complained!"

"_Would _you ever complain?"

"This is ridiculous. Of course you please me!"

"You don't have to say that just because I'm your sovereign…"

"Alexander…!" Hephaestion's turned to him sharply then, the admonition in his tone as clear as he could allow it to be.

"…or because I love you," Alexander pressed on regardless. "Or even… because you love _me."_ He could feel his own face growing hot with embarrassment; he wondered if he would ever reach a point where he could talk about sex without even the faintest bashfulness. "I don't want you to think that you can't… ask me for things. Things you need. Or – would like. If there's something you'd like me to do… or… or you'd like to do to me…" Alexander could no longer meet his lover's gaze; the utter bewilderment reflected in it was rapidly changing to mirth as he watched Alexander struggle. "Something I'd refuse… or be angry about…"

"Alexander…!" Hephaestion repeated yet again, this time with a soft chuckle, reaching up to ruffle Alexander's curls. But the King did not want the conversation to become whimsical; he was quite serious and he wanted Hephaestion to realise it. Gently he pushed Hephaestion's hand away.

"I take so much from you, Hephaestion – and sometimes it seems I give back so little…"

That wiped the smirk from Hephaestion's face quickly enough. He actually seemed angered by Alexander's words. "Alexander, you can't really mean that."

"I do, Tion."

Hephaestion shook his head. "Give back so little?! Gods, Alé, every man in your army wants where I am right now, even the men of your own Bodyguard! No, not just as your lover," he added, grinning as Alexander felt his face grow even redder, "but as your most trusted, most valued, most beloved friend! How many hearts do you think you broke the day we raced at Troy? How many men would have killed to take my place? How can you suggest I have anything to complain of?"

"But there are freedoms other men have, Tion… freedoms I should allow you. But I… don't think I can. My need for you is still so great…"

Hephaestion frowned and looked away. Did he understand yet? If he did, he chose not to say. As the silence lengthened, Alexander leaned closer and kissed his lips, then slowly drew himself up. The grip of his friend's hand startled him – he had thought Hephaestion still lost in his own thoughts. "Don't go, Alé," Hephaestion said huskily, "sleep the night with me."

Alexander smiled down at him with love. "I will," he said. Whatever terrors the night brought, it was time he and Hephaestion faced them together.

But the night brought no terrors. They had talked a little more and shared some wine; after a while Hephaestion had ordered supper for them which he insisted Alexander ate and then they had returned to bed. Alexander had fallen asleep almost instantly, exhaustion washing over him in waves, held tight in Hephaestion's arms.

When he woke, bright sunlight was already beaming in through the half-closed shutters and Hephaestion's soft sleeping breath was ruffling his hair. In Alexander's head there were no voices but his own. The need to finally unburden himself was growing strong now he had stopped beating it down, stopped insisting he should suffer alone and that his suffering should not be alleviated until he decided he had suffered enough. There was a real urgency to it – he did not trust his demons, whatever they said. If he wasn't quick enough, would they find him again?

Somehow, cradled in the safety of Hephaestion's room, it had been possible to face up to the doubt, the guilt, the jealousy and the confusion which had tormented him. Were he to tell Hephaestion that it was his room, that it was the echo of Hephaestion within it, which had made the reckoning possible, Hephaestion would surely have laughed in his logical way and insisted it had been down to Alexander's own inner strength alone. But Alexander knew better. If he had found that strength, it was surely because he knew he had Hephaestion to help him if he needed him. That when he finally let go, as he knew he had to do, Hephaestion would be there to catch him. A fine reward, then, for all his help – to take from him again instead of giving.

"Forgive me, Hephaestion," he said softly, kissing Hephaestion's half-parted lips, "forgive me for loving you too much…"

Hephaestion still did not stir. Silently Alexander laid his cheek upon Hephaestion's chest once more, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart.

TBC


	15. Chapter 14

**REDISCOVERY by Moon 71**

**CHAPTER 14: **Ptolemy and Alexander each take steps to reclaim those dearest to them…

**NOTE: **Only two more chapters after this one! As you will see, all is not yet perfect! Thank you all once again for such wonderful reviews; I will try to answer questions (and veiled requests, hint, hint) as soon as I can, meanwhile read on!

* * *

The scratching at the door was too familiar for Thais to be caught off guard when her maid showed Ptolemy, son of Lagus into her reception room. However, she affected the manner of one mildly but not unpleasantly surprised. "Joy to you, son of Lagus… the hour is early! Do take breakfast with me, my clever maids have found the most delicious local fruits for me to try, you must have some too." 

"You are gracious as always, Thais," Ptolemy answered, not refusing the seat she offered beside her on her couch. It was too easy for him to make himself comfortable in her rooms; it was too easy for her to be comfortable with him there. She straightened slightly, adjusting her diaphanous mantle about her shoulders, suggesting enough modesty to put him off making any uninvited advances.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" she asked with deliberate formality. She did not want to give the impression he was still free to come and go as he liked, nor that she was particularly honoured to entertain him. But at the same time, it was foolish to be unnecessarily cold.

Ptolemy looked uncomfortable. "Thais, I feel I have to speak to you on a matter of some delicacy. I have always admired your discretion… I hope I can continue to rely on it."

"But of course…" Thais smiled. She had always been far better at controlling her expression than he had. A beautiful face, she sometimes thought, tended to lack the expressive range of a more homely one. Or perhaps it was just that those gifted with beauty wasted too much time keeping their faces still in order to stop them creasing with lines of worry or laughter.

Right now, there was a deep frown upon Ptolemy's rugged face; lines creased his brow and the corners of his normally good humoured mouth were turned down. "It's about Hephaestion," he stated.

"Oh…!" Thais nodded. "About… _me_ and Hephaestion?"

"Your relationship with him is none of my business, of course," he answered rather officiously, "what _is_ my business is the health and happiness of my king. Or, more precisely, the health and happiness of Alexander."

"Is there a difference?"

"You know it as well as I do. As well as Hephaestion does… as well as Alexander himself does. There are certain things Alexander needs…" Ptolemy cleared his throat. "As a man. Things only Hephaestion can give him."

"Oh, I don't doubt that!" Thais laughed. As Ptolemy scowled, she held up her hands. "Forgive me, son of Lagus. Old habits die hard, and I am, after all, only a woman…" Then she gave him a more sympathetic smile. "I understand what you mean, of course."

"Thais," Ptolemy continued with a heavy sigh, "you are a beautiful, exciting, captivating woman…"

"Why, thank you, Ptolemy…!"

"…and I can quite understand how Hephaestion might fall in love with you, even to the exclusion of all others. And how he might be unwilling to give you up. But he has responsibilities… to Alexander. And I think because of you he's losing sight of them. You must remember that I have known Alexander almost since his birth. He has always needed a great deal of love, a great deal of assurance that he is wanted, that he is special to those around him. Hephaestion is able to give him that reassurance… has been able to almost from the day they met. In ways that no-one else can."

Thais smiled again, this time with real kindness. She knew, though he had never hated Hephaestion, it did annoy him, as it did all the other Companions, that there were things Hephaestion could give Alexander that the rest of them couldn't, things that went well beyond sexual pleasure. To admit to it even to her could not be easy.

"Of course I appreciate that it isn't always easy for Hephaestion, a young man… healthy appetites, attractive to many… but Alexander needs more than just the general assurance of Hephaestion's continuing love and… and desire…" Thais noted with amusement that Ptolemy was actually blushing. "He needs regular proof of it."

"And you think that since I've… become involved in his life… Alexander isn't getting it? His regular proof, I mean." She couldn't help teasing him a little; she loved it when he became flustered talking about love between men and knew that he did find the continuing sexual relationship between two of his friends something of an embarrassment.

"Thais," Ptolemy gave another heavy sigh, "unlike most women I believe you possess remarkably masculine intellect and perception. You also have greater worldly experience than a young man like Hephaestion who, after all, is relatively new to… ah… liaisons of this nature. Therefore I'm asking you… for the sake of Alexander… to… to let him go."

Thais felt a flash of rage, but it subsided quickly. "For the sake of Alexander?" she asked, just a little coldly, "_just _for Alexander?"

"Of course," Ptolemy replied stiffly, though she noted that he had moved closer to her during the course of their conversation.

Thais was silent for a moment. She understood perfectly; there was no point in outwardly pretending she didn't. But that did not mean she had to make things easy. "Suppose I followed your advice," she murmured, leaning over to examine the dish of halved plums and peaches her maids had brought, finally selecting one and lifting it to her lips. "What should I do afterwards? To whom do you recommend I turn?"

She licked delicately at the ripe juice of the peach before biting into it, running her tongue slowly over her lips and smiling very slightly as she felt Ptolemy's eyes fixing hungrily upon her.

"I… well… perhaps… for the time being at least, I… that is, I…" he began haltingly, then suddenly he squared his shoulders. "I would be honoured if you would consider allowing me to look after you, as I have done in the past. I like to think that arrangement suited us both very well."

Thais kept her eyes lowered as she swallowed the fruit. "What about that… oh dear, whatever _is _her name…?" she wondered airily as she wiped her fingers on a silken napkin.

"I have decided to make a gift of Anahita to Laomedon, son of Larichus," Ptolemy answered steadily. "He seemed to enjoy her company, and perhaps it will cheer him a little… the loss of Erigyius has been hard on him."

Thais' brows rose as she nodded. "A thoughtful and generous gift, son of Lagus."

"Thais…"

He was reaching for her hand, but she rose quickly. "You really must excuse me now, I have so much to attend to this morning, you know my maids – if I don't watch them _nothing _gets done…!"

"Of course," Ptolemy rose with her and headed for the door. But then he turned. "You'll consider what I've said, Thais?"

She favoured him with a smile – if not one of her most ravishing, then one that was warm and quite genuinely friendly. "Of course I will."

* * *

"I've decided to take your advice, Hephaestion," Alexander said as he accepted a refill of his wine cup. "Try some of the lamb; the spices they use on it are delicious. I asked Oxyartes' wife to have her cooks teach mine how to make it…" 

On the couch opposite, Hephaestion's raised his brows expectantly. "My advice…?"

"About the hunting trip."

"Oh…?" The news pleased Hephaestion – it struck him as a good sign. Outwardly Alexander appeared very much better since they had spent the night together; the other Companions seemed satisfied. There was talk of the army moving on, though Alexander was not specifying to anyone in which direction that might be. Whichever way they went it might mean long separations from Alexander - and Hephaestion did not relish the prospect of being away from him until he knew he was all right. And everything was still not yet quite as it should be. Hephaestion could feel a new tension in his lover when they were alone; they would make love and Alexander would let him spend the night, would allow Hephaestion to soothe and comfort him and would whisper through the shadows just how much he loved him, but they still had not really _talked._ "That sounds excellent Alexander," he said casually, nodding as the steward offered him the plate of grilled lamb.

"I'd like you to make the arrangements yourself," Alexander continued slowly, his gaze fixed upon the meal before them. "You know how I like things."

Hephaestion shrugged. "Who do you want to take with you?"

"You."

"Yes, but who else? Crateros?" He managed to make the suggestion without irony, but Alexander shook his head. "Or perhaps Roxana's brothers?"

"Just you."

"How about…"

"I said just you, Hephaestion."

Hephaestion grinned. "If that's what you want, my heart…"

"I thought about what we said that day we went riding," Alexander answered slowly, "about finding time for… for _us._ And I decided you were wrong. We can have time – it's just a matter of priorities. Perhaps, in a way, it's a matter of my putting aside my _pothos _– my daimon, perhaps – and allowing myself the precious gift of your exclusive company for a few days. What use is being Great King if I can't demand that?"

"I… commend your logistical reasoning," Alexander," Hephaestion answered, unable to hide the faint warmth rising in his cheeks. "Which of your pages would you like to take?"

"None of them. A couple of yours will do – the two youngest, I think. They need the practise, from what I've heard. A couple of your servants, two of your guards… that should be enough."

Hephaestion looked at Alexander oddly for a moment, and then shrugged once more. For a while they concentrated on their supper, passing comments on the quality of the hunting in the region and the fine flavour of the meat and wine Alexander's cooks had provided. But once the plates were cleared, Alexander ordered Hephaestion's cup refilled and then dismissed the servants, ordering the guard to wait outside before coming to sit on Hephaestion's couch. "There's something else I've been meaning to discuss with you."

Hephaestion smiled, ready to offer whatever sympathy Alexander needed. "Tell me, Alexander."

"About your marriage," Alexander began, catching Hephaestion off balance. "I thought you'd like to know the name of your bride."

Hephaestion could not help staring at him. So she really existed? He could not help a small shiver of apprehension. Exactly what did Alexander have in mind? If it involved him staying behind in Bactria, or returning to Persia without Alexander, the answer would be _no_, not even if Alexander intended to wed him to Aphrodite in human form. He tensed, ready to protest.

"You know we once entertained the idea of my marrying Princess Stateira, daughter of Darius," Alexander continued, his eyes fixed upon Hephaestion's knee, "I discussed it with Queen Sissygambis before we left the Royal Family at Susa, and she was quite agreeable to it… no doubt she envisages her granddaughter one day becoming Queen of Persia…"

"I can think of no more noble a bride for you, Alexander," Hephaestion declared, then realised his error and began to apologise, but Alexander waved it away with a wry smile.

"I want to give you her sister, Drypetis."

Hephaestion stared stupidly at Alexander for what seemed an age, unable to catch his breath. "You… Alexander, you aren't serious…"

When Alexander lifted his eyes to meet Hephaestion's they were almost childishly wide and hopeful. "Do you understand, Hephaestion? I want to be an uncle to your children. I want your children and mine to be cousins. I want to unite our blood."

"But a royal princess, Alexander…!" Hephaestion laughed a little unsteadily. "My fellow generals will kill me!"

"There will be good matches for them too," Alexander answered dismissively, "I have a plan, you see, a plan to unite…" he hesitated, and then shook his head. "Later. For now, just tell me… Hephaestion, tell me that you accept..."

"Oh Alexander…" Hephaestion drew his friend roughly into his arms, burying his face in the warmth of his shoulder. "Gods… what can I…? Alexander… I…"

They remained clasped together for a long time, Alexander laughing softly and stroking Hephaestion's back. "For a moment I thought you might say no…"

"As if I… Alexander, you really…" Hephaestion gave up on words and kissed him. "Would you like to know just how honoured I feel…?" he added with another giddy laugh, trying playfully to push Alexander down beneath him.

Alexander grinned happily, his eyes very bright, but he struggled free. "Later, my friend; save your energies. On the hunting trip you may show me as many times as you like. We'll be away a few days, so I'd better go to Roxana."

"You make it sound like a hardship, Alexander. Is marriage really so awful?" Hephaestion chuckled.

"She's a sweet girl," Alexander answered wistfully, "but she's not you." He rose and called for the stewards once more. "Take some sherbet with me before I go."

"Sherbet, Alexander?" Hephaestion laughed as the chilled drink was brought in. "You're worse than my pages!"

"My own version," Alexander replied, "snow and fruit juice… mixed with good clean white wine."

Hephaestion had to admit it carried more of a kick that way. He had swallowed two cups of it and was about to bid Alexander good-night when the king added casually, "I nearly forgot. I wanted to speak to you about Thais."

Hephaestion stopped in his tracks.

"Well to be more accurate, I wanted to talk to you about Ptolemy." Alexander's manner remained casual as he swirled the melting sherbet around in his cup, then sipped it slowly. "Don't get me wrong, Tion, I have no objection to you taking up with a woman; in fact, now that I'm married I think it was… well, tactful, even, of you to do so. I'm sure it has soothed any worries Oxyartes and his friends might have had… after all, they're not used to our ways and you know how gossip breeds misunderstandings… and Thais is a very beautiful woman, so I can't fault your choice. But Ptolemy's position is… rather sensitive. He's one of my oldest friends… with very noble blood too… and he _did_ suffer exile for me… and has always been very loyal. And you've heard those rumours, of course."

"About your father and…" Hephaestion scowled. "Some say he started them himself!"

"Never the less, they do have a ring of truth," Alexander admitted wryly. "Naturally I have no intention of acknowledging him as some sort of half-brother. He's a good commander… but not one of my very best, so I can't promote him over Crateros, or Perdiccas, for example… nor, indeed, can I pretend to love him as much as I love you." He met Hephaestion's eyes briefly over the rim of his cup, then looked down again. "The fact is, Hephaestion, you're ten years younger than he is and to say you're more comely is like saying that that sunlight is hotter than moonlight. For you to steal his mistress, one of the finest hetaerae this army can boast, is… frankly… well, something of a kick to the teeth. I'm sure you never intended it that way," he added quickly, holding up his hand to forestall a protest that did not come. "But there are many who envy his position – and yours – and you know how damaging gossip can be… but of course, the decision is yours… I only wanted to offer my advice. "

Hephaestion listened in silence. If ever proof was needed of Alexander's strategic genius, here it was. He had planned his campaign perfectly, making sure his reconnaissance was in good order and securing the field from all sides before he finally attacked. Hephaestion was well and truly cornered – how could he make a fuss over the favours of a courtesan just after Alexander had first offered a private hunting trip for them, as public an avowal of his continuing ardour as anyone could ask for, then announced his plans to marry him to a princess, the very sister of a woman he himself intended to marry? A brilliant and decisive manoeuvre – but Hephaestion found he was not yet ready to surrender. And perhaps, after all, it was not in his best interest – or Alexander's - that he should.

He kept his silence even when Alexander had stopped speaking and was watching him expectantly. "Hephaestion…?" Alexander prompted. Hephaestion looked up at him. Alexander tried to keep his face politely blank, but his anxiety was quite clear, as was the plea for understanding. Hephaestion smiled ruefully.

"Health to you, Alexander," he said, leaning down to kiss him.

TBC


	16. Chapter 15

**REDISCOVERY by Moon71**

**CHAPTER 15: **Thais has some important news for Hephaestion before he sets off on his hunting trip with Alexander… while Alexander finally reaches the end of a long and painful journey…

**NOTE: **Well, we're nearly at the end of our journey too, but I hope it hasn't been as painful as Alexander's! I will post the last chapter Christmas Day assuming I don't have one sherry too many...

* * *

"Son of Amyntor, it gives me great pleasure to see you…" Thais held out her hands to Hephaestion, who clasped them warmly and raised them to his lips. "And so early in the morning… I'm flattered you'd think to call upon me before you leave on your hunting trip…"

"You've heard about that," Hephaestion said with a crooked smile.

Thais shrugged elegantly. "You know how quickly interesting news spreads among the camp-followers, Hephaestion. And news of you is always interesting." She noted with satisfaction the faint colour rising in his cheeks, but she could feel the tension in her body as he drew her into his arms. At least Hephaestion did not seem to notice – drawing back slightly, she looked into his face and saw a return to that serene smoothness others had often remarked on when he had first come to prominence at the side of the young King Alexander. And there was a childish exuberance in the way he clasped her and showered her in kisses, quite unlike his usual dignified caresses outside the bedchamber. This sudden change in his behaviour surely denoted a change in Alexander, presumably for the better. Thais was pleased for them both. But it did not alter her resolve.

It had been several days since he had been to see her and of course it hadn't occurred to him to send word anymore than it occurred to explain himself now. Not that she didn't know his whereabouts – the court gossips were bubbling with rumours of how much time he was spending with the king of late, and what this might suggest about the recent marriage as well as the future movements of the army. During those quiet days of his absence, following Ptolemy's visit, Thais had forced herself to reflect – on Hephaestion, on Ptolemy, and on herself and what, ultimately, was best for her. After all, if she did not put her interests first, nobody else would. The decision had been much harder and more confusing than she might have expected, but it least it was made.

Just as Hephaestion was about to speak, she stepped away from him, moving over to the window, making it clear she herself had something difficult to say. "Son of Amyntor… Hephaestion… I have to tell you something. I have received a visit from Ptolemy." She glanced over her shoulder with a rueful smile. "Apparently he has given Anahita to Laomedon."

Hephaestion shrugged, slumping down into a chair and stretching out his long legs. "A generous gesture," he observed mildly. "Laomedon is very taken with her."

"I… don't know if generosity was his prime motive," Thais continued, trying to keep her tone jocular, "he… asked me to return to his protection."

"Did he indeed? The brazen son of a…" Hephaestion laughed derisively. "You mean he just came out and asked you to come back to him?"

"Not exactly…" Thais allowed a small smile to tug at her lips. "He tried to make me regard it as a… sacrifice to the greater good, if you will. He felt I was taking up too much of your time… to the detriment of the king…"

Hephaestion's laughter faded, his eyes narrowing shrewdly. "Is that a fact…? Ptolemy used Alexander as an excuse to separate us, did he?" A strange, thoughtful look passed over his face before a coldly knowing smile replaced it. "And what was your reply?" he added before she could question him.

Thais lowered her eyes. "I haven't given one, yet. But I think… perhaps I should accept him."

"_You – what - ?!"_ Hephaestion sprang from his chair and seized her so quickly and so sharply that Thais nearly cried out. There was no mistaking the sudden flashing anger in his dark eyes. Well, after all, she reasoned quickly, he was a young man, handsome and powerfully placed, no doubt as territorial as any other male; he could hardly relish the indignity of being passed over for Ptolemy. "You _thought," _he snarled at her, "and just what makes you _think _this your decision to make? The last time I checked, you were _my_ woman, not his!"

"I am my own woman, son of Amyntor," Thais said softly, ignoring the pain of his fingers digging into her arms, "no… don't misunderstand me, I don't speak defiantly but merely pragmatically. I have no father, no brothers… no husband, bound by ties of blood or marriage to protect me no matter what. I must make whatever choice I think serves my interests best."

Hephaestion's grip relaxed. The anger softened to confusion. "And what makes you decide that Ptolemy is a better choice than me?"

"Ptolemy and I have been together since before we left Macedon – for a woman in my profession, such loyalty is a rare blessing, and one I have come to appreciate more and more."

Hephaestion frowned. "And what makes you think I can't offer the same?"

Silently, Thais took his hand and led him over to sit beside her on the couch, relieved when he did not resist. What could she say? He had not brought her into his household, had not begun to include her in his retinue as a matter of course. She doubted he would consider taking him with her the next time he embarked upon a solo mission. She had come to know his pages and some of his men only because their curiosity brought them to her, not because he had encouraged it. Such familiarity, such trust might come with time as it had with Ptolemy – unless of course Hephaestion lost interest. Ptolemy on the other hand represented security… continuity… familiarity…

The cold logic of an experienced hetaera. But of course that wasn't the whole truth. Looking at Hephaestion now, she saw he was not only still angry, still resistant, but he actually looked genuinely hurt. So it wasn't just wounded pride… it hadn't all been her foolish woman's fancy – there was real empathy between them, real affection, even as there had always been between her and Ptolemy. Was it so unreasonable to expect it from a man who had stayed so unnaturally loyal to his first love? No, in the end it wasn't just insecurity over Hephaestion that had decided her.

She knew only too well what it must have cost Ptolemy's pride for him to come to ask for her back, without even the advantage of her being alone and unprotected so that his offer could seem charitable. It was quite obvious that he missed her – that he truly cared for her. And she could not deny that she had missed him, that she cared for him too…

At last Thais managed a gentle smile, daring to reach up and caress his cheek. "Alexander will always come first in your life, Hephaestion."

Hephaestion rolled his eyes. "Why does _everyone_ assume that because I am Alexander's friend there is no room in my life for anyone else?"

"Because we can see how much you love him… and how much _he_ loves _you_. And after Alexander comes the army. And after the army comes… your _pothos."_

"_Mine?"_ Hephaestion laughed, but she sensed his uneasiness. "I have none – I leave that to Alexander, he has enough for all of us!"

"That is perhaps what you would have us believe, Hephaestion… for the army you are the practical half of Alexander, the one who sees the dreams become reality. But there is a look I see in the eyes of so many here… the look of homesickness, of weariness, of a wish to settle. I have never seen that in you."

Hephaestion shook his head dismissively. "Another subject for debate, Thais! I think you are trying to distract me…" He heaved a heavy sigh. She sensed he was about to confide something in her, but then he appeared to think again. Finally he continued, "I must tell you, I am reluctant to accept your decision, Thais. I have come to value the time we spend together… the nights have been an exquisite pleasure of course, but our conversations… our debates… and even just the hours spent in your pleasant and gracious society… you have been a comfort to me in what I suspect you know have lately been very difficult times… you have given me new strength and a new outlook… and I would be sorry to lose your... companionship."

He could not say "friendship", not yet, but she understood him clearly enough. Thais looked across at him, not quite trusting herself to speak. "For a man who only recently claimed to know nothing of women," she whispered finally, "you certainly learn quickly how to flatter our vanity…" When he made no answer, she drew in a deep breath. "We might not be able to continue as lovers, son of Amyntor… for if I return to Ptolemy, I would consider slipping away behind his back beneath my dignity, and certainly well beneath yours, but perhaps… perhaps we could continue to be… friends…?"

Hephaestion did not respond for a long time. He appeared to have plunged into deep but rapid thought, no doubt assessing the logistics of their situation, she joked to herself, trying to lighten the intensity of her own mood. Finally he looked at her once again. "You and Ptolemy…" he began reluctantly, "is that what you truly share? Friendship?"

Now it was Thais who could not answer; she had to turn away from him so he could not see her face. She knew just how Hephaestion defined friendship – as a love deeper than any sexual passion, any traditional bond between men and women. Even she had never dared to define her relationship with Ptolemy, with any man, in those terms before this moment. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Perhaps… son of Amyntor… yes… perhaps it could be called that…"

Hephaestion nodded slowly. "Then… I suppose I should respect your decision," he said. She felt his arms slip about her waist and she turned to face him once more. "But I will find it hard to smile at Ptolemy for a few months to come…"

He had not said whether he accepted her suggestion. He only kissed her; deeply, warmly, passionately. Thais accepted it with pleasure, but the embrace that followed, an embrace that could be mistaken for one he might give a friend, that made her feel that same odd melancholy she had felt the night of the festival, and suddenly make her anxious for him to be gone.

* * *

Alexander and Hephaestion made the ride up to the hills in silence. Their guards talked quietly among themselves and Hylas and Admetus chattered non-stop to each other and to the servants guiding the pack animals, so excited were they by the prospect of the hunt, exchanging stories they'd heard of people being eaten by bears and wolves or carried off by nymphs or satyrs they were convinced must live in the thick woodland. Their halting attempts to question the local guide in his own language would have been amusing under other circumstances. 

Alexander kept his head slightly bent. His face was pale, his lips bloodless and his jaw held achingly tight. In those grey eyes of his, a storm was building; Hephaestion fancied he could almost feel the collecting energy and hear the distant rumble of thunder.

As soon as their guide had found a suitable place to pitch camp, Alexander ordered the others to see to it, handed Bucephalus over to the young groom and almost pulled Hephaestion off Golden as he barked at him to follow and bring their hunting regalia. They set off at such a vigorous pace that Hephaestion struggled to keep up, stumbling on the uneven, scrubby ground, but Alexander pushed on as if the great ocean itself was in sight.

"_Alexander!"_ Hephaestion cried breathlessly at last, having visions of Alexander marching them both off the edge of a cliff, "By Hades, Alexander, _stop!"_

Alexander swung around, his face pink and shining with perspiration, his eyes wild. He charged at his friend as if ready to attack him. _"Stop!"_ he nearly screamed, _"Stop! Can't you see that I can't stop? If I stop now they'll catch up with me! They'll stop me, they'll try to push us apart again!"_

Hephaestion seized him roughly by the shoulders, ignoring his struggles. "No, Alexander, they won't. _I won't let them."_ He didn't know who _they_ were and he didn't yet care; this had to stop now. "Tell me, Alexander," he said simply but firmly, _"tell me."_

"_Yes!" _Alexander moaned, _"yes, I'll tell you now, I'll tell you! I'll tell you!" _He gave a convulsive, hysterical laugh. Then he began to talk.

Hephaestion sat quietly on a rock and watched as Alexander paced about, kicking rocks, punching trees, cursing, weeping, laughing, ranting and raging until it was all out and he sank down onto the woody ground, panting softly and burying his face in his hands. "Gods, Hephaestion…" he heard him say, "gods… oh gods…"

Hephaestion wanted to embrace him but he held back. "I'm here, Alexander," he said instead, "I'll always be here."

Blindly Alexander reached for his hand, his own trembling and wet with tears. "I know… I know…"

A few moments later he was in Hephaestion's arms, crying as if his heart would break. Hephaestion also wept, but his tears were of relief; at last he had been freed to do what he ached to do for so long – to crush Alexander close and give him all the comfort, the understanding and the love he so desperately needed. At last - _at last - _his Alexander was here and they were utterly together once again.

TBC


	17. Chapter 16

**REDISCOVERY by Moon71**

**CHAPTER 16: **The end at last! Alexander and Hephaestion finally enjoy some time together – and both realise they have a lot to talk about…

**NOTES: **The end is here indeed… and I want to thank everyone who has been so kind and generous in reviewing this story and indeed all my stories, as well as all those who have emailed me, and those who don't want to chat but love to read – I know you're out there and that's what matters! Would you believe its only one year since I posted "The Ivory Eros"? I feel like I've known some of you for years!

Please stick with me as I say a particular thank you to some of you:

**Fredericka – **thank you once again for all your help with this complicated story!! From the reviews I'd say you were right every time!

**To Coral Dawn **– thank you for all the help you probably didn't know you were giving!

**To Joyeee –** your huge reviews are a treat to be savoured!

**To Trust No-One, Selket, Balliansword, Purple Lolly, Khepri, Del Rion, Norrsken and Euripides **– you are all such excellent writers and such loyal reviewers – your reviews are especially appreciated but your stories are even more adored.

**To Arlad, Mlygia, Chibizanzo, Songnatasha, Queendel, Madaboutbooks, Kadaj's-girl, A Horse called Hwin and Angstman – **you are such wonderful reviewers, all of us writers treasure you.

**To Sushoo, Bob, Yolass, Kitten and Liz – **I am now so glad I let the anonymous reviews through! Not a flame amongst them (so far…!)

**To Parisad and Barbara – **Buon Natale and _un mare di baci! _(Well, it is Christmas...) (Under the mistletoe, Barbie, in the case of Alexander and Hephaestion, you know what I mean...)

Last of all to a few other friends – **Marina – **Hope you like Hylas' little contribution here; I thought the musical training appropriate to boys of a good Macedonian family! **Stonestepper – **glad you're reading, looking forward to your next Alexander tale… to Tsuhiyo and Amalc, nice to make your acquaintance! And to **Ryo-chan – **glad you got it in the end!!!!

**A HUGE, MASSIVE HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!! And now I'm of to drink some Christmas sherry, or perhaps a little amaretto...**

* * *

They returned without any kills, to be greeted happily by Admetus and Hylas, who offered their own – a hare which looked as if it had died of old age and a chicken Alexander suspected might have been stolen from a local farm. Hardly enough to keep a party of nine well fed. In the end the meal was padded out with barley-cakes, fruit, edible roots and slightly stale bread, washed down with a great deal of wine. Alexander didn't care. He wouldn't have cared if they had returned with nothing but the recently shed skin of a snake. He kissed both boys warmly and congratulated them on their prowess with the spear and the bow, insisting they would have the use of the Bactrian guide and one of the guards to help them in the morning. 

As the light dimmed they all gathered around the fire. Admetus played the kithara and Hylas sang, and though Alexander couldn't bring himself to offer to play as well, he did astonish Hephaestion by joining in some of the songs, his voice perfectly complimenting that of the boy who Hephaestion always insisted was his youthful image. After several cups of wine Alexander felt the urge to talk and launched into a stream of embarrassing anecdotes about Hephaestion's first hunting experiences that had the pages giggling and the guards stifling sniggers behind their hands. Hephaestion's sour look did not daunt him; he felt as if he existed upon a cloud, so light and free did he finally feel, so happy was he at the thought of the days ahead. His outburst high in the hills had forced out of him fears and dark thoughts he had never intended to reveal even to Hephaestion. But, though it had exhausted him, it had been worth it just to feel the euphoria he felt now. The demons were gone – and he suspected they would stay away, so long as he had Hephaestion to turn to.

The next few days would belong entirely to Hephaestion – Alexander would devote himself to his friend's pleasure and comfort. They would ride and hunt and let themselves revel in simple, manly pleasures they had taken so for granted as boys. And they would talk freely and honestly, even about Thais, and Alexander's difficulties with her, if Hephaestion really wanted that. But above all, Alexander would show Hephaestion – with his kisses, with his touch, with his loving, just with his attention – just how much he meant to him, just how often he thanked the gods for him, even if he sometimes forgot to thank Hephaestion himself.

"We'd better ride out at first light," Hephaestion whispered to Alexander as they headed for their tent, "or we'll all starve to death."

"Certainly, certainly," Alexander murmured airily, very slightly unsteady on his feet, his arm slipping shamelessly around Hephaestion's middle, "first light… whatever you say…" The night air was sweet and fresh and made him a little dizzy as he breathed in deeply; Hephaestion gripped him supportively as he stumbled and he smiled up at his friend, nuzzling into his shoulder. "Have I ever told you how infinitely delectable you look in the firelight?"

"I think a fat roasted boar would have looked tastier," Hephaestion sighed, then squawked indignantly as Alexander's hand slid down to his bottom and squeezed. "Alexander…!"

"I know a good way to forget an empty stomach," the King told him with a lustful grin.

* * *

"Alexander…" 

"Mmmm…?"

"Love, it's well past dawn, we ought to get out there and catch something…!"

Alexander murmured a protest and snuggled closer to Hephaestion. "I can think of better ways to spend a cold morning like this than hunting, Hephaestion…"

"But this is supposed to be a hunting trip..! Aren't we supposed to be out slaughtering wild animals?"

"Well… we can always hunt each other beneath the furs… anyway, I sent your boys out earlier, they'll catch something for us."

Hephaestion groaned. "So its barley cakes and fruit for dinner again…"

"Oh no, they'll do better this time! I told them you'd beat them if they came back empty handed!"

"_Alexander!"_

Alexander's wild boy's laughter was like music to Hephaestion's ears. "Well it's your fault, Hephaestion – you've failed to encourage a proper Macedonian bloodlust in them! According to Hylas, you've never even taken him hunting once!"

"You know I don't care much for hunting, Alexander…" Hephaestion grumbled.

Alexander sighed, resting his chin upon Hephaestion's muscular chest and letting his hands slide downwards. "Back to being the Athenian snob, Hephaestion? After all these years? I thought I'd won that war years ago."

"Some victories are incomplete, Alexander."

"So I'm beginning to realise…"

Through the soft, cool morning light filtering into the tent, their eyes met. Alexander's hands stilled, his expression settled into patient resolution. They had known each other too long and this moment was too intimate for him to pretend he did not know what Hephaestion wanted. "Talk to me, my friend."

Hephaestion shifted onto his side so that he was facing Alexander. "Thais has returned to Ptolemy," he began slowly. "Yes, I can see that pleases you, and let's not pretend it's out of some sensitivity to Ptolemy's feelings. And I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong and I want you to understand that you're wrong."

"Hephaestion…"

"No, let me finish. It wasn't my decision to give her up, Alexander… The truth is I was quite ready to defy you. You tried to trap me, and I resented it, but what I resented much more was your lack of faith in me... in us."

"No! Never that, Hephaestion!" Alexander protested in a sharp whisper, "I have never lacked faith in you!"

"But in my love…? Alexander, nearly all men, even the most ardent lovers of boys, enjoy the company of women! Why should I be different – and why should you be so… disturbed? Achilles and Patroklos shared their tent with captive women – did that mean they loved each other any less than you and I? Did Achilles' affection for Briseis lessen his love for Patroklos? And you yourself Alexander… you have Roxana…"

"You know why I married her!" Alexander protested, but Hephaestion but a finger firmly to his lips.

"I know why you married one of Oxyartes' daughters, Alexander. But I also know Roxana in particular caught your eye… and I know you have come to care for her… Never, once, did I think that changed your love for me… or your desire… if I in my turn take a woman, why should you think it would make any difference to what we share?"

"Hephaestion…" Alexander rubbed a hand restively through his blonde curls. "This isn't about sex, you know it isn't. I'm not a complete fool – I know you've had other lovers… and I know that my need to keep you to myself is one most men would consider weak and unmanly…"

"_I _have never considered it so," Hephaestion cried softly, but this time it was Alexander who silenced him, reaching out to clasp his hands.

"Look around you, Hephaestion… look at what is in this tent. This is all that belongs to Alexander. No, let me explain. Everything between here and Macedon, the lands, the cities, the palaces, the people, the soldiers… those pages and servants outside… even Roxana… all belong to the king. Were I not to be king, none of these things would be mine. All that belongs to Alexander are these furs, which we have won on our hunts… the sword that lies beside me to protect us… and you. Yours is the only love I have that I believe in with all my heart. If that love was ever to flicker and fade…"

"It never will. It _never will_, Alexander," Hephaestion breathed, taking Alexander's face in his hands, "why can't you trust that?"

"Because being with Thais _has_ changed you… you're already different! From the first night you spent with her…"

"If I have changed, I have changed back into who I was… the Hephaestion you fell in love with. Don't you recognise him?" Hephaestion smiled tenderly, unable to stop himself leaning in to brush a kiss across Alexander's lips. "He was a person who knew his own mind and valued his independence – he had strong opinions and vehemently defended his right to express them. You shouldn't be upset by my finding that Hephaestion again… not if you really did love him as you claimed. He loved you passionately… so passionately he swallowed some of that terrible pride of his to love you… and he loves you still. He can be strong for you, Alexander… since I found him again, he has only been waiting for you to give the word, so that he can spring to your defence…! Do you really want to stifle him, to push him back into the shadows?"

As Alexander lowered his eyes, Hephaestion saw the brief glimmer of unshed tears. Then his friend drew in a deep breath and steadied himself. "You say you didn't want to give Thais up… yet you did. If it wasn't in deference to Ptolemy… or to me, then why?"

Hephaestion frowned thoughtfully. "Alexander, you know me better than anyone, even my own parents. You know I have never been much of a lover of women's society... when I was a boy all my love, all my passion was directed towards you, and if my eye strayed it was to youths who reminded me of you… strong, bright, energetic and vital, not soft and submissive… I could never understand the sympathy you felt for women… even why you suffered to hear your mother's counsel when other men would have put her back in her place, even why you spent so much time in the company of women like Aida or Sissygambis…"

Alexander gave him a lopsided grin. "I hope you're not accusing me of effeminacy, Hephaestion… of having too much of a softness for women…"

Hephaestion waved this aside. "Until Thais I never thought I could find much pleasure in a woman's company beyond sex… but I learned with her that there was much besides that a woman could offer. Don't be angry, Alexander, if I'm only just learning what you've known all along… Thais showed me a need I had barely recognised – something I want to have when you and I are forced to be apart… not just quick sexual gratification, but amusement, companionship and the gentle, intelligent counsel of someone I can trust. Thais offered that."

"And yet you gave her up," Alexander prompted impatiently.

Hephaestion nodded. "It was Ptolemy after all, in a way, who persuaded me… nothing he said or did, but… just a moment of clarity of what Thais might be to him. If I, after such a short intimacy, didn't want to give her up, how must he feel? If Ptolemy enjoys Thais' society as much as I did, and had done so for many years, and, indeed, unlike me is a true lover of women, then perhaps taking her from him was not the noblest gesture I could make, I who… as you said… has the love of Alexander himself… and when I heard Ptolemy had given Anahid to Laomedon, it seemed… petty, to stand in his way."

"How democratically Athenian of you," Alexander murmured dryly, his eyes downcast. "But, after all, you will have female companionship soon enough! Drypetis…"

"Alé," Hephaestion chuckled, "come on now. If my memory serves me correctly, Drypetis daughter of Darius has not yet turned thirteen… remarkable and accomplished though I'm sure she is, can you see me talking a child-princess on independent campaigns? When our campaigns are over it will the greatest honour to take her as my wife, but that will be years away, unless you plan to turn back tomorrow…?" He sighed, slipping his arms about Alexander's waist and drawing his hesitant lover close. After a moment, Alexander relaxed, lifting anxious grey eyes to Hephaestion's face. Hephaestion caught his breath. No other, man or woman, would ever see Alexander like this, so utterly vulnerable, so desperate for reassurance. There was tenderness in what Hephaestion felt, but there was pride too. Nobody would know Alexander as he did… and nobody would ever mean as much. Enough had been said for now; Alexander would learn to understand, he was not incapable of understanding how Hephaestion felt. Somehow he would find a way to show Alexander the fathomless depths of his love, to reassure him yet again that no woman, no man, no boy could ever alter that. He bent his head to kiss his friend with possessive hunger but then suddenly drew back.

"You didn't answer my question," he continued at length. "Are you planning to go back…?"

Alexander's eyes flashed brilliantly at the question, a radiant pink flush spreading across his cheeks, a mischievous smile tugging at his full lips as he brought them close to Hephaestion's ear. "I mean to go East," he breathed, "As we dreamed as boys, my Hephaestion, I mean to reach the Ocean itself! I mean to be in India by the time the winter comes…"

Hephaestion shook his head. In spite of the warmth of Alexander's embrace, the fervent whispering, the hands clawing urgently at his back, he could not help his well trained mind snapping to the logistics of the matter. "The army… the Bactrian campaigns have been hard and demoralising, the losses high… your officers have grown complacent, dreaming of satrapies and harems… we'll need to send for reinforcements, work out how to incorporate the men Oxyartes will bring with him… we'll need to send scouts ahead, interrogate the local traders as to what lies ahead, secure guides, order maps…" He trailed off as he watched Alexander begin to shake with laughter. "What…?"

"What a fool I have been," Alexander sighed, wiping his eyes, "not to realise that if I want to steal you back from the arms of a beautiful woman, all I need to do is give you a campaign to organise! I can handle the army, Hephaestion… as long as I know I have you at my side."

"Alexander, I would follow you to the Kingdom of Hades, alive or dead," Hephaestion grinned. "The thought of it… following in the footsteps of the gods Herakles… and Dionysus…"

"Alexander follows in the footsteps of no man!" Alexander retorted, "I shall outpace them both!"

"Hubris, Alexander…" Hephaestion admonished.

"Would you expect any less from me?"

"No, indeed… it shows me that you are truly my Alexander again…"

Grinning widely, Alexander pushed him down onto the furs. "I have never been more Alexander than I am today…"

Hephaestion lifted a restraining hand. _"Now,_ shouldn't we go and kill something?"

"Later…" Alexander growled low as he crawled on top of him, "A _lot_ later…"

* * *

It was midday before they finally took to the hunt; though the sky was bright, the mountain air remained refreshingly cool. As they rode out on the trail of Hylas, Admetus and the guide, Alexander talked animatedly to Hephaestion's guards, apparently quite unwearied by his earlier exertions beneath the furs. In contrast, Hephaestion's mood was quietly peaceful, not expansively gay; his mind wandered absently until he had lost the thread of the conversation and he had let Golden drop a little behind. There was so much that had been troubling him which suddenly no longer mattered; so many new factors to be considered in their place. He couldn't help wondering what Thais might have to say about all he and Alexander had discussed. Women did have the strangest ways of looking at things… but that had its uses… Of course Thais was no doubt preoccupied with Ptolemy right now, but perhaps she might still take a moment to spare a thought for him too. He wondered if Nireus had managed to do what he asked, and if so, if his gift had been understood. He thought it should – for a woman, Thais did possess remarkable intellect… 

"Hephaestion…?"

Alexander had fallen back to his side and was watching him curiously. As Hephaestion looked up he was suddenly conscious of how different Alexander looked - his cheeks were brightly flushed, his hair tousled and his eyes sparkling. The effect was becomingly youthful; even the many scars of war seemed to have faded from his skin. With a little imagination he might just pass for Hephaestion's beloved Mieza boy after all. Hephaestion gave him an enraptured smile. "I _do_ love you, my Alexander," he said, "I love you very, very much."

Alexander stared at him in perplexity for a moment and then lowered his eyes, his colour deepening visibly. Such passionate avowals were usually more his own style than his lover's, and Hephaestion had spoken quite loud enough for their companions to overhear. But after a moment he put out his hand for Hephaestion's and clasped it firmly, and when he finally raised his head once more, the smile he gave him outshone the sun itself.

* * *

Thais rose gracefully from Ptolemy's bed. Soon enough the army would be moving out again and they would have to grow used to life on the march. Well, that came with camp life. She could rely on Ptolemy to make it as comfortable for her as possible, and she had been with the army too long to find it insufferable. She glanced back at her companion with warm affection. Love was something no self-respecting hetaera should confess to, even within the privacy of her own thoughts. But she had felt the loss of him; he was so very familiar to her… an important part of her life… and there could be great sweetness in that. 

He had not been able to disguise his relief when she had come to him or his pleasure when she lay down once more in his bed. For an hour after their lovemaking he had talked ceaselessly, of everything from Alexander's plans to the past festival to the latest court gossip, a subject he always relished.

Quietly she went over to her dresser and drew out the small package from the top drawer. The note which had come with it, delivered by Hephaestion's boy Nireus, was oddly charming in its clumsy phrasing – obviously he was not used to writing notes to a lady. But the ending was all it needed to be. _"Please accept this gift from your friend, Hephaestion."_

Thais smiled as she held the black obsidian earrings up to the soft light of the lamp, where they glittered darkly. Simple, not highly valuable, but beautiful none the less. She held them in her hand for a moment longer, then put them back inside their silken cloth and replaced the package and the note in the drawer.

So she had won the debate after all.

**THE END!**

**Once again, thanks for reading! Review if you like - or if you're shy, just send me a PM, even if you have a complaint! Happy Christmas and a wonderful New Year with all the love and blessings one person can send to all those who have made her so very happy!**

Moon xxx


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